Your lovely eyes,
two dark bamboo beetles
bristle with fervor
ready to battle
with mine, seeking truce;
your belligerence,
has a stirring effect.
I am aroused
beyond limits.
    Now is the time to act,
make wild love,
    ending the lovers' tiff.
    I sign the treaty of withdrawal
    with a passion filled kiss,
   summoning all the force
   in your command, you seal it,
   with an incomparable another.

Rugby town, of landlocked streets,
of wasted field and barefaced retreat;
I miss you now, in absence of a friend,
I miss you now, in the verse that I lend.

Suburb grove, of sleepy mist,
oh, battered housewife, oh blastocyst;
you will remain in place forevermore,
and forevermore, you'll become a bore.

Holding cell, of sporting fame,
you stole my dreams but gave me my name;
I think of you: a multi-storey view,
of happy faces, of which there is few.

Still, my town, in debt's nightgown,
the shop-fronts vacate, we're feeling down;
these streets are poisoned with names of the past,
each memoir to teach: nothing's built to last

Rugby town, of weary folk,
the private school is a private joke;
I miss you now, as I sleep through the day,
I miss the old walks, and all that you'd say.

Old market town, the aftermath,
of British summer, suicide bath;
of open mics and closing the shutters,
of waking graveyards, sleeping in gutters.

Hopeless climbs, of dreary times,
of childhood state and nursery rhymes;
each time that I come home, I know you less,
becoming a stranger in my redress.

Clock tower, chiming, chiming loud,
singing for history long and proud;
of Rupert Brooke and the question: “what if?”
What if I was born to some lover's tiff?

To some large and friendless town,
to some body of land, which I drown;
to some active place of pain unknown,
to some place that I'll not gauge that I've grown,

oh Rugby dear, stay with me,
let  me live on the periphery;
and although this town seems terribly dull,
it could be worse – I could live in Hull.

CREOLE PIDGIN ENGLISH

wetin de call dis, wetin you go call dis
oyinbo com tiffy tiffy from ma yard
I no trouble yam, I no go knock on dem fer notin
but oyinbo an dem pally com de burglarise ma hice
you hear me so!
I say oyinbo com de steal from me home
Dem be thieves tiffing all over de compound
an when I go say why you tiff about the place
oyinbo tiffs them tell me I go be the *** whey go suffer
See palava see how dem de treat black people
in dem country.
If I go steal from oyinbos, na ma *** dem go trow in jail
yet for dem town, dem com steal your property
and when you go talk they slap you down
Dem go make me loose ma bread, loose ma woman
Dem spoil ma name, them abuse me
Dem tell al kinna lies against me
Dem make nonsense stories and fabu abot me
Dem harass me, discredit and disprofit me oh!
Dem become tomenters, dem say dem go drive me crazy
dem go ruin ma life, dem go make me sik in da head
And heavens know i never trouble any persons
I never put ma feet in anybody house to steal
I never see this kin ting before
where you go do wrong and destroy him whey he do no wrong
Dis is what dem do here now, make you people know
I no fit work, I no fit go anywhere without oyinbo and him
pally dem follow and harass ma ***, dem say dem want me dead
Dead for stealing from me, dead for me doing notin wrong
an them feel proud for all dem de do, dem feel right for wrong
De kin wickedness whey devil himself no fit do, dem don do
And I swear before man an God, dem go get their retributions
Every single one of dem whey involve
God go punish dem
God go bring the chaos of hell on dem
God go mash dem up like dem mash ma life
Except God no be God an tru an  real
Dem are evil people and evil will claim every single one of dem
who do dis to ma innocence.
Peoples wherefer you be, wherefef you go, make you know
That in london der are evil oyinbo thiffs dere
an them go steal and destroy your life if you talk
I beg jus pray for me, dem want me dead
Dem want blood.
De blood of an inoncent man who never trouble anybody
dem de make mockery of me now
Dem de call me Modern day Jesus....
An by de Grace of de real Jesus Christ
Each an every one of dem who hav made me suffa
Will get dem just reward, I wait on the Lord
He is a tru an just God and Him say
Vengeance is mine...

Real
you may think this is not true
but it is and if you disbelieve
well now start to think again
it started like this:
I was walking downtown and was bored
I entered a bar and yelled to the bartender
"Get me a sheerly temple"
It wasn't alcohol but I liked them
I got my drink and sat down on a
circle bench and when I did a man about
6'2" blonde beach hair and a smile on his face
"Hi.I saw you walk in.Can't shoot whiskey?"He asked.
"I can I wanted something more normal.."I reply back.How did he have the rights to ask me that.How rude!
"I'm sorry your expression looks disturbed."He says.
"Sorry Mister I just don't know how you have rights to ask me if I can shoot whiskey.That Beach hair is somewhat personal,what if I couldn't cause if I did i'd die?"I say.He stares at my hair."Hot pink and green?Beautiful combination."He says."Okay thank you?"I say."No i'm being truthful."He says."Okay well maybe I like you."I say."Well I like you."He says."My name's Tiffany,call me Tiff."I say."Jacob,call me Jake."He says.
We talk for hours then he kisses me.
    Then he decides I'm dumping this girl
And that's how I got dumped for the first time.

no doubt you have saving graces
it would just be nice if you practised them
now and again

I once found a unicorn horn
But my peers only met me with scorn
I made such a wish
Turned into a fish
And swan for the sea until morn

I took the horn and held it up high
Said a prayer to the lord of the sky
Thunder did clap
And I fell into a trap
That cost me my left arm and one eye

I cast the horn off a cliff
Into a vast cavernous rift
It bounced right back up
Broke my best cup
Which was going to cause me a tiff

See, my wife had just bought me that glass
And now she would kick my whole ***
First with a boot
Just like in Beirut
Where they stomp you for not wearing a sash

I have fallen right off of the point
Probably from smoking that joint
This was about a fine horn
From a unicorn born
By the oil which was once used to anoint

a religious twist enters the plot
some of you like that a lot
but it was just a trick
like a bordered **** pic
as I turn the piece back to green ***

see I grow for the boys and girls
in a field on top of the world
vast fields of ****
are all that I need
to keep all my drawstrings unfurled

but a unicorn has no need of strings
or any such silly ole things
with a magical neigh
he just sauntered away
so I’ll end this song just as it sings

She talks up a storm,
And scratches like a tom,
First time I saw her,
I knew we would never be at par.

on the balcony
a crescent moon
frown's at lover's tiff.
27/8/2019

"No no I don't hate really thank u for this I just want you to know I really dont believe in putting optimistic twists on unhappy things. I honor and respect agony despite loathing it and I find pain in change so I just dont like it to be glamorized thats all. And then, you know, the best friends thing but I talked with u about that already privately"

Ember lashes out on tiffany on comments on a peom of hers i say this is so meanly harsh enber is not a dying out burning flame but we wish she was then she wouldn't get bad sided with tiff

Another thing is ember was downright discouraged tiffany kust want wanted a person to go too.I think you let er down Ember E. Diwnright harsh

There are a lot of important things needed to be happy in life,
that stop the dark rising and save the mind from strife,
like hilarious acts and moments we find funny
and as much as it pains me to say a bit of money
so we can do other fun things like go on a night out,
singing the hours away with a beam and a shout,
or a sweet song that glistens around the head,
or an engrossing book to read in bed,
ordering a take away and gorging can give a thrill
or back to back box sets on a Netflix and chill,
and just as crucial as having a top mate to phone
is having a place that one can call home.
Having an abode to go to when employment is done
or a domain to grab some water to quell the heat of the sun,
a space to collapse when infused with inebriation,
when getting tired of tracks, a warm safe station,
a place to get ready when revving to go out in the mix,
yeah, you were all of the above dear Flat Six.
Yeah, I’ll hold my hands up, you've been a ace place in which to live,
okay you were full of damp and the bathroom wall flimsy enough to give,
and when the verdant Eden outside was chopped down it made me mad
but you were only a short walk from my Mum and Dads.
You had plenty of perks,
fab tree out back and close to work,
a 24 hour garage a stone's throw away,
that sold the ***** at night and day,
you were near a cracking paper shop that had had 2 bottles of wine for six quid a go,
suffice to say, el vino did flow.
Your living room was massive enough to play big with a cat
"always a good time here" etched on your welcome mat.
Under your roof was awesome, you engendered joy with ease,
effortlessly making great, just like the cleanest breeze.
Now although you as a building yourself is a important component in amaze
other factors also make a simply brilliant phase,
Like when friends came round for fun and revelry
after we had left the club just after three,
we'd all pick up the ingredients for a ***** do
and jump, and groove with soothing coo,
the ether resplendent with "I love you!"
finely balanced between boom and cautious,
chatting committed, gabbing voracious,
sunk into fun under your light,
the wonder of spun on Saturday night.
Now, it wasn't just at the weekend when friends came to say okay,
there were some sweet gatherings on a Wednesday,
no women, no, just a range age of men,
it could only be mid week Breadren,
we could be having a conversation about how New York seems most tourable
when a voice pipes up, "by the way bel ami my cousin has cancer and it's incurable."
There could only be one guy who brings such depressing roars
the harbinger of gloom known as Two Doors.
He'll bleat on about how his niece has no womb and is totally barren
and next to him lives a kingpin drug baron
"they are shifting units at a furious pace
and ski in more in more wizz than ******* Scarface."
He'll change the subject in the blink of an eye
and go from talking about love to who's going to die,
he doesn't like most women, thinks they are a squawking flock,
he loves men though, yeah, he really likes ****.
A mate can come out and say sobbing he doesn't want to be with a lass
while Iain does think, "Ross, let me in your ***."
His friend could weep and cry with a whimpering cough
while all Iain thinks, Ross, **** me off!
Never mind Grinder, get on my fleshy old man log."
The third guy Martin is off shooting up in the bog.
Yeah, lots of people talked in your four walls
but you provided the space for those stupendous *****,
you were brill in December, springing in May,
really awesome in September, probs cos that's when Louise came to stay.
You held our pre festival clutter with happy behest
and often covered in bottles on Monday, a big glassy mess,
oh you had everything, simply one of the best.
As I’ve said, Flat Six you as the area were great
But a paramount importance in that was housemate.
You see some people can bond and connect in the hub of a club
but when sharing an address each other up the wrong way they can rub,
although they can go to a gig and have the most divine of laughs
when they abide in the same abode they go together like low ceilings and giraffes,
arguments start over the heating not being turned off
or who hasn’t took the bins out or who’s had some of the others food to scoff,
they bleat that “you shouldn’t have gone out for that night on the *****
And then made noise when you got in as you knew I was trying to snooze!”
or “why did you have that night on the coke, you see more of Charlie than an oompa loompa
and have World War 3 over a borrowed jumper.
So yeah, it's sweet when you find a shared space dweller
and who you think is swell and you get on really well,
as when after a day at the office and you perhaps want to chill alone
when they rap on your door to discuss the day you're glad their home,
skating through conversations with the p of pace
raucous at pontificating and waiting in the listen space,
bringing the talk with dazzling natter,
singeing the fork with frazzling chatter
to ensure the words cooked go down warm,
go down a treat, go down a storm,
discussing that wowing tomorrow is pay day thrill
and who was to blame for the initial breakup of Ross and Rachel,
top gabbing, it was brill!
Someone who when the elephant in the room is sniff
you both realise it quick and score in a jiff!
And never entertain the waste that is a tiff,
not for us the sign of a rift
simply super, a kind of bliss,
see I love Joe Flat Six, I love him to bits!
Although, like you  and your constant mould
he wasn't perfect (like everyone), if the truth be told,
you see if you follow all the biblical teachings you've been taught
you'd think he would have thought,
"I can help myself to the dental care and washing hygiene, it don't matter that I haven't bought,
I can use what I deem, Si's not the selfish sort,
he'd give me the last drop of his shower gel if he could,
he defiantly would,
so do unto others as they'd do unto me
and as I’ve got this human cleaning fluid for free
I’ll leave him some plentiful dollops on the side so he can bathe in a Lynx Africa infused sea
and I can leave some mouth polish laid in the shape of a cleansing leaf
so he can keep the fillings to zero in his teeth
then I can take the rest as I’ve been true to my sacred beliefs."
Yeah, that's what he could have done.
Instead he grew horns and committed a Luciferian act
and thought "I'm taking all of that!",
Sartini, you Devilish ****.
Nar, I bet you didn't even think that at all,
you were too busy imagining going out and having a ball,
beautifully bouncing off every wall,
riding the waves of Wet Dreams with total aplomb,
spinning tunes while high fiving Tom,
cool as ice cream and hot to trot
country hopping and swigging spirits by the tot,
at least Shannon seems to have diminished, that ****** robot!
she had more wires than C3PO's thighs
and glazed over R2D2 eyes
fair dos you digged her metallic allure
but did you really want to make love with the Terminator?
Ahh but who cares about a bit of shower gel and your cyborg fawning
it was great singing along as the day was dawning
And obvs I know every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end
But it’s only natural to miss living with one of your best friends.
So far be it from me to encourage your narcissistic gaze
but Joe you can add top housemate to your list of fortes!
So dear Flat Six to summarise
I’ll miss sitting out your back in summer rise
looking through your big tree with my eyes
at the Saturday sun azure blue skies,
I’ll miss that whatever there is to unfold
won’t happen over your threshold,
I’ll miss coming in your space with loads of beer
And chill with tunes while mates appear,
I’ll miss the midnight moving across your floor,
miss my key going in your door,
miss that it’s not your clock telling my time
miss that you’re not mine when I say “who wants to go mine?”
But now you’ll always be more than an address and a collection of bricks
I’ll always love you,
dear Flat Six!

A warm and awesome sunny day
In the Southwest town
Of Tucson Arizona
Buy your dreams a dollar down

Kim & me were walking slow
Down Broadway Boulevard
We had a silly argument
And Kim let down her guard

She was just 14 years old
I was sweet sixteen
She was a pretty black girl
In a t-shirt and blue jeans

Our tiff got fairly vocal
We were both strong willed
A predator saw our antics
And moved in for the ****

We fought a bit and then we split
Kim went toward the mall
The monster drove by in his van
Gave Kimberly a call

Foolish girl! She bought his ploy!
He lured and she got IN!
His vehicle was shabby
He was short & thin

I saw the scene as it went down
And though my anger burned
I loved the little miscreant
And I was concerned

So I headed eastward
Towards the way she'd went
I was scared by this time
I wanted to repent

Then all of a sudden
The van! It had come back!
The thin dude called me over
Said his name was Jack

"I saw Kim," the thin man said,
"She is sure upset
She's forgiven you the fight
She wants to forget

She wanted me to let you know
She's waiting in the court
I am a good friend of hers...
C'mon. Let's make this short

This is a pretty busy street
Won't you please get in?
I promise I won't hurt you
I am just a friend"

Well. Though it was snarky
I bought the malarkey
And in that van I slid
I was just a foolish teen
So I did as was bid!

Now. I was in a pretty dress
Of colored floral print
But it was pure. It was demure
It was innocent!

But that scurrilous letcher
Looked me up and down
I was young, but wasn't dumb
His inspection made me frown

"What's that face?" The **** asked
"Won't you come and play?
I have a matress in the back
And come to that I'll pay!"

"YOU'RE NOT FRIEND OF KIMBERLY'S!!!
THAT WAS A BIG FAT LIE!!
COME NEAR ME, SKINNY MONSTER,
AND I'LL BOP YOU TO THE SKY!!!"

Well. That was a big mistake
He got furiously mad
I didn't know how mean he was
I didn't see how bad...

I didn't know he'd prowled the town
That he'd no regard for life
It should have come as no surprise
When he pulled a KNIFE!!!

He said, "Well now, pretty thing,
You'd best sing a new note.
You ain't tough. I've had enough!
I may just slit your throat!

Now. Believe me if you want to.
Disbelieve or not.
I was strong... and I got calm.
Gave the situation thought...

He thought I'd be frightened.
He thought I would cry.
But I had God's hand upon me
As I looked him in the eye

"I'll do what you want, friend,
Yep. I been around.
I'll do whatever you may want,
Just put that **** knife DOWN.

Shaking with desire
The creep was spineless squid
He looked me up and down again
And did as he was bid!!!

Now, the handle of the door
Was broken off inside
But the window wing was open
Yep... the wing was open wide!

He'd set the knife between us
I had no time to think
I grabbed that knife and threw it out!
Quicker than a wink!

A comedic look of Horror
Spread over that man's face
I looked him in the eyes again
I gave that man no Grace!

He thought I would just slap him
But I did this instead
I turned my back onto the door
And KICKED HIM IN THE HEAD!!!

"Now we are on even terms!!!"
I screamed with all my might!!!
" I dated a black belt...
AND I KNOW HOW TO FIGHT!!!"

I'll bet that man was wondering
How it all began
He knew I didn't mess around
And in the end he RAN!!!

I got out his side of the van
I tell you no lie
As I walked towards the mall
I broke down and cried!

A sweet elderly couple
Had heard me and my screams
They helped me to a phonebooth
And soothed me in their arms

The police came very quickly
And they were sure impressed
They said they'd been looking for the guy
But they had no address

I'd taken down his license plate
After I broke his chops
I pulled it out of my small purse
And gave it to the cops

They said I was a hero
To have it end that way
Then there were reporters
It was in the Star the next day.

How a little teenager
Had beaten an armed man
They apprehended the miscreant
I guess that's out his plan

You may find this incredible.
You may find this odd.
My courage had a higher source

a great and loving GOD.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/4/2016

Namaz was less prayer and more about
Standing beside Amma and mirroring her,
When as a toddler I stood on the chataai
Murmuring as she did,
Bending down as she did,
Resting my head on the floor
And then waiting to come back up
When she did,
Some days I'd be so sleepy I'd sway on the mat,
Only to be jolted up by an angry Hmph! from her side,
Some days the patterns on the mat seemed like
They were God's silhouette- something she always denied,
Times of silently bonding with the Almighty and the Amma,
Slowly faded into me deciding to pray solo,
When the hour of maghrib coincided with a
Mother-daughter tiff,
And even when we stood praying side by side,
I'd make it a point to not let our sajdas coincide,
On the mat laying bare our rifts and divides.
I wonder if Amma noticed me daydreaming during prayer,
My musings whether God understood English,
My requests to Him to make that crush like me back,
My teenage self angrily bubbling at her obtrusions to my 'freedom'
As she prayed and prayed for me.
Years have passed,
And how I'd love to synchronise again,
The pace of our prayer, the length of our sajda,
But the days, and this new house,
Are now ridden with so much more clutter,
That, though the chataai has stayed the same,
There's not enough space to accommodate
Both daughter and mother.

the enfeebling mistake
veiled as a no-no
the little miss brazen **** bears the brunt
of what now must be a joke
incoherently fishing about for the juice
indecent glycemic index
meter says 30
profile says 10
or 15
milligrams of the judy blue pastille
no gobs to say about she
but when her jeans genuflect
no tiff
no tease
be a lamb or another even-toed ungulate
and give the poor girl what she needs

We came into this life alone
A long, long time ago,
With each of us to each unknown
It gave us time to grow,
Then season after season passed
Our lives would open yet,
When my eyes lit on you at last
Upon the day we met.

And since that day, just like a dream
We’ve never been apart,
You’re everything that love would seem
To this, my bursting heart.
And so today we tie the knot
That binds us both for life,
When I call you my husband, dear,
And you call me your wife.

David Lewis Paget

There once was a man
A man “with a plan.”
For our purposes
We’ll call him “Dan.”

Dan had a friend
A friend “’til the end”
But a hand was one thing
This friend couldn’t lend.

Dan cried for a lift
As he hung from the cliff
And he hated himself
Every minute of it.

And they sat in silence
Obvious Passive Violence
But no matter how he tried,
His mouth remained flat.

Dan needed some help
Like pants with no belt
But his friend “’til the end”
Had no message to send.

And Dan cursed at his past
For things move too fast
In a world where you can’t
Leave the thoughts you had last.

And Dan cursed the world
The world he unfurled
Through the months long before
And his body felt torn.

And as Dan wept
Alone he was left
And his friend “’til the end”
Didn’t give the smallest little ****.

So Dan cursed his friends
As his knuckles turned red
And the dirt in his fingers began slipping free.

And he cried out for help
Like pants with no belt
But a hand was one thing
That this friend couldn’t lend.

It’s a matter of pride
Of choosing a side
But Dan didn’t want
To go for this ride.

And the sun burnt down hot
And the moon burnt up cold
And his heart, it did rot
And his mind did unfold.

He cursed everything
From the sun to the moon
And a poison in him
Did bloom in the gloom.

He said “I don’t care,”
But an occasion so rare
Made this man stare
At his friend’s hollow glare.

As Dan’s knuckles turned bare
His friend, he did stare
And his friend said
“Dan, this isn’t fair.”

Dan knew he was right,
But straight out of fright
Looked down to the beach:
The glass man was in sight.

“You treat me so wrong,”
Said this man’s friend
“Please just tell me…
When will it end?”

Dan tried to speak out
Without having to pout
For he knew exactly
What he was talking about.

“Please, my dear friend,”
Cried the man on the cliff.
“If you could just lend a hand
We could end this small tiff.”

“But a cliff top, so high
As the one you stand by
Is something I cannot do alone.
So, please, my dear friend…
Be willing to try.”

And these mortal two
These mortal few
Who stared below
At the water so blue
Stared at each other
Thinking anew.
And as for their fates,
I’ll leave that to you.

I am too long
Outside a boat,
Too long away from the
Tip and shimmy
Of a dinghy hull,
The joyous swoop
Of a hull under sail,

Too long since my
Hand rested upon
A tiller,
Felt those five essentials
Work in balance to
Place no load
Nor need a weather helm,

Too long away from that
Which brooks no
Office politics,
No lovers tiff
Nor household chore,
Just pleased to carry me
By wind away from shore

But soon and soon
No matter the weather,
Be it storm or calm,
Sun or snow or rain,
Even frozen lake won't
Stymie my day,
For I shall sail,

And when that wood
Which bears me
Is a diamond coffin,
And life has left my body,
Be ye certain that somewhere,
God willing,
My soul is sailing still

oh yeah, there's enough Bolognese sauce to go round... round and round the Bolognese sauce goes round, while we milk the cow for the Béchamel sauce! raw eggs the sushi apéritif; eh, Bologna! tiff piff paff bara boom, Arab dead naked in the sand as described by Camus... so forget the mama mia... eh?*

the world's too big for us
to encompass a global individual;
not even a bottle of whiskey will aid
the idea... and a Dubai Lamborghini
will not craft an Indiana Jones adventure
either, a global individual is a
mistaken litmus test... a failing...
listen to the peepsqueak pokémons,
i'm not even in possession of ropes
for a stalker motive...
globalisation gave us the distancing safety...
god help us with the internet auto-suggestive
of its narcissistic ownership by rich youth...
**** them to hell and their monopolization of things,
have they even registered the notion
that adverts can be bypassed via pause and forward
and the mute buttons? or did they just spend their
father's inheritance on bling-bling to show off?
here's the mansion... and here's the Hilton gutter...
welcome to Paris, ******.

On a cold and lonely day with a hint of a breeze
The red metal box alone and lonely  started to freeze
Would someone need  him today he thought
A lovers tiff, an angry couple who'd just fought

A well placed word on parchment or better still
A poem from the heart to elicit a thrill
Night and day, day and night
the postbox remained resolute hoping to see the light

tiff between lovers
under a small umbrella
who holds who kisses.
3/4/2019

Live blog: Romney and Stanton vie for Iowa win.
Dead heat in the dead of winter
What do the Iowa results really mean?
That Romney's less of a robot than he seems?

Oh, by the way: replacing a bulb, can save you 50 dollars or more!
But it'll cost you ten times as much, at your hardware store.
Starbuck's hikes prices despite the lull,
People stupidly betting on Powerball,
Selma Hayek's trending, y'all!
(We don't know why).

But what's all that compared to shootings?
Soldiers flying and not being sniffed,
Suspects nabbed in Utah killings,
And GOP runners had another tiff.

Personally, I'm more fascinated,
In the Aussie hybrid sharks!
This might mean global warming's overrated,
Or that animals are way smart.

Mideast peace-talks stalled, I read.
Have I not read this before?
Oh, yeah, back in 1972.
When psychos killed athletic Jews,
Who might win
And Olympic village was off view,
While the Israelis dragged people in.

That year, Nixon was re-elected
And we thought we'd never see worse,
Yet now the nation is infected
With a yellow-haired, inhuman curse.
Blog goes to sleep...

Begun long ago and finished in 2018

The wrapes of Grath adorn the path that slammer klingks had tread
when turning spades in everglades to flosticate the dead.
Along the way the snorbels bay at freebled sprutelned
that boogeymen had once again uphove above the shed.

The buildings tall that housed the krawl are pictured carved in stone
and all that’s left is now bereft of wrapes that might atone
for scabs that feed our wrinkled breed, distraught and lying prone.
Yes, flonk replaces merpeled traces deep inside, alone.

There’s no retreat from incomplete, so durbies never dared,
but streaped instead beneath their bed with franjent fangs unbeared;
they knew the past could never last although the trumpets blared,
for doogies, stripped, were ill equipped, no longer bald or haired.

Like cavaliers with gougejent spears, well triggered for a tiff,
slank vankulures with silver spurs embussed for grimp and griff
(no question why, for “we can’t die”, the oft regleated riff);
with little fuss the blunder bus krunged glimpfly off the cliff
and fetid breet of grim defeat gave Grath its final whiff;
the catapult had one result, all life lay lazelled stiff.

The plastic waves that washed the graves, now homeland for the rutch,
though faring worse when quenching thirst with warples in the hutch
were nonetheless, as frunks confess, so pleasant to the touch
exturbing sinks that watered wynx and onetime life as such.

Like burning blotters slurping waters, skindles sipped their fill
from koozing cracks between the tracks inhumed beneath the hill,
then spawned the spores of Grathic wars that profit from the ****;
their victory tales, like crimson crails, reside in dung and dill.

Those scrilly clouds that cowed the crowds neath radiation snapes
left little less than watercress beneath their coffin’s drapes;
yes, those unborn cannot adorn the pallor of the prapes
so scrundlemun tinge bibberun, we ones who reap the wrapes.

Yes, now-abandoned hetzelspan were once in time embroiled
with merikained that firps extained until the weather roiled.
What more, perchance, can happenstance inflict upon the koiled
when pendlesnips are in eclipse and wrapes of Grath are soiled?

there's a hawk in the sky
and i'm wondering what
he's doing here
with all that freedom

this is no place for him,
with the rooftops of grey
he's got to be
going hungry

There's a fish in the sea
with arms and with legs
he ain't got no coins
so from me he begs

this is no place for him
with scales that don't shine
he'd rather be
drinkin' red wine

there's a rock in my shoe
who once was a cliff
when I asked him for proof
we got in a tiff

this is no place for him
with laces that tie
he'd rather be
dust to live by

there's a ******* the street
with more than two eyes
she feels more than she sees
that's why she cries

this is no place for her
with souls who are blind
she's got to flee
from such thoughtless grind