written, as the grammatically -hyphen- open... add a bit 'ere, add a bit d'er... y'ah n'o, pick 'n' mix... it's open love... i'd rather revise the affair to your standards of "perfecting" english... but then i'm wrapped up in 'aving a drink and investigating excusing myself while easing out a ****!*
i like the sound
scissors make
hmm...
it makes
to sheer a sheep
rather than to
shave a man...
something, quasi-
aristocratic riddles
the air...
or if you're
be-chancing
being *******'s lasp ,
call for the *******
mother of kings inheritor -
the guillotine...
sense my lad,
is knowing,
when to keep your mouth,
shut up!
oh, i remember,
i had not been courted
with the notion
of... monarchic royalty...
but but must make you sleep
upon investing in the peasant,
crown be invested in?!
what shame! what shambles!
only a german could utter such
airs!
my god man... is the Raj
of Hindustan to know ma'am's soujorn
of deliberation?
i come from a background
of domesticating aristocracy to
the point of no bewilderment
via disapproval, as to the point of:
allow them their luxury,
but never their pretence of making a,
choice...
you are allowed trust
in aristocracy when they have made
the proper choice,
and less, if there ought to have there
been, a making of one...
a constitutional monarchy
surely makes commoners aristocrats,
but at the same time,
unearths graveyards of nations...
for the elected monarch
scuttles back to his humbling
abode like rat and peacock in grip...
believe me i tell three monarchs:
i hope you die before your mother,
your son will reign the most uneventful
years,
and your grandson will bring
majesty to his mother#'s death...
you want to know my secret?
minus the pills you'll defame all
desires for chemistry or chemists...
*******..
you want to know my secret?
i sleep, with, a clean, conscience.
given the 24h, i am hardly sleeping...
i'm hibernating.
she's half black? i thought ***** 'arry
got a loose ginger ninja!
what? because the **** is all
one can have in commoner's terms...
i thought she was an illusion
of dating a senorita!
he's still ***** harry to me...
i'm not post constitutional monarchy...
i'm more:
i find myself coordinated when
standing before the Thames and not
the Firth of Forth...
south... past the river...
north... where i'm standing...
west... buoyancy of big ben
and the most expensive sigh...
east...
**** down the middle,
or... where the tourists would have headed
when it could ever become,
affordable...
richness stinks,
but not of the sort of stink you'd
associate with the poor...
the sort of stink that's, eloquent,
high-brow, solipsistic...
the sort of stink that makes
an empty space, become;
crowded.
ha ha... i can't believe rich people
don't believe in places where
even they don't belong,
nor can they buy themselves into!
