#fumble
plied playful pied piper oh puppeteer dream writer of a wonder and future so bright,
oh tell pray chance the grand wonders in morrows to come a stored store for the wondering fools of this world tonight.
casting, the irons so hot, malleable, tender in the hearts delights, here in this awkwardly worded flight, of fearless tendency, oh **** necromancy?
**** yeah, that, that can stay far from sight. now, lets lead with the fixxen to wack the mole of ridiculous vixxen and fiction so true, so true the crookedly made house, rousted clout, for he is an ego far too large this alley mouse, pretending to be a cat without a house, oh wait that's me, scratch that last part, before someone figures out i was only a silly little roustabout, and hoping to rooster, and goose the calling of mine own loud *** mouth out. crap. this ***** but we are far from done, oh almost forgot you standing there, will you do us all a solid and tell us the way out? or at least what horse to bet on in the triple crown and the powered ***** all hanging out? your a Daisey if ya do.
SuperStar
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1EreTOvelQ
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
*I didn't mean to fumble your ball, i'll make sure to catch it next time.
But sadly, there won't be a next time
I must brush off my uniform and move on
But that's harder than it sounds.*
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
Cumbersome, I am
Under some profound stress, and
I'm clueless at best
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 7:13 AM UTC
Friday’s Fumble Crumble:
writ/wrote /needs/work
the WR juggernaut,
of write/writ/ wrote
and associated WoRdy derivatives,
a vast complex,
the crossover
from notion to lively potion,
the ****** of completion;
a tricky *******
1st an enticement, inevitably a
first unsatisfactory shot,
the dispiriting recognition
that what you got ain’t good…
a dissolution of resolution,
the look back~try again,
picking off the fleshy morsels
from the Valley of Bones,
that demands a really funereal
and t. swift
sea burial,
thus energized by seawater ,
or the slapping **** from ***** dirt
comes re~energy, a burst of a covert coverup,
then comes a gleam,
the light of a beam in the seams
of your fingertips,
a repeating secretion of ideas that refuse
to give in to a ceremony of deletion,
a prescrip for a sad~glad emotive repast,
a look back,
longing glance, but with a new hope of
rejiggering, that sticky secretion ‘pon
dying, yet enervating,
dancing fingertips,
spewing gobs so fast of wordy worthy
battered batter,
throwing in some Heath bar crumble,
soon enuf the oven is cooking!
baking and the smoking aroma of
over~heated sheets of paper
of soon to be crisply delivering cookies extraordinaire,
but alas,
‘twas all in the mind and is unjustly
a recipe, for ashes of a burnt dreams
and the tenses clench/de clench
when the writ is wrote,
but never,
not ever
is it ever just rote…
*@nd that’s what ya get when you witty-gritty-wrote
*@
2:06am
7/26/2024*
Jul 26, 2024
Jul 26, 2024 at 7:31 AM UTC