@ 2008-03-27 – 12:25:54
Wattles and throttles
And things jammed in bottles.
The monkeys are bouncing again.
With a hark and a harp,
They whoop in the park.
And dance to a baton called Ken.
To the tune of “Old Smokey”
They fling me in chokey
And push the one key up their bum.
So I sit and I twitch
With a Badger called Mitch
And sit quietly sucking my thumb.
@ 2008-03-27 – 10:08:47
Cantankerous elves
Are fighting themselves
Adrift on a clear purple ocean.
Translucent goats
Capsize all the boats
A cataclysm in slow motion.
The sea lions dance
With mussels from France
And feast upon Donald's fair potion.
While otters of glee
Stipulate unto me
A charming disarming true notion.
@ 2008-03-27 – 07:07:58
i Believe that sentence structure and punctuation are best left to the imagination
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