cacian
01-29-2012, 11:53 AM
He wondered slowly as a cloud
looking to find a petal frown,
He could amass thousands of
brass
scattered here amongst the rise
but none of it was sulken grass,
It was the syrens of Damasc's
He could almost hear ringging a past
that woke him out
straight of a daze
and whizzed him off to wonderlands,
in there
He followed pastures greens
seeking out
pages of current deeds,
poingnant is a question
that singles out,
towns
Eliads, symbols, and higher else,
He quested in brambles
sacred rites
along the bibles of the heart,
and stood upon a rigid
path asking:
do angels fly out down in pinks
flaffering wings
from a tilted vast?
Earthen Poisedon
Cupid's vows,
seldom eyes see them
trinck amongst our blessed,
He tried immersing thoughts
to slangs,
and wished he could wise up
and write
in Gaelic a cinderalla pale
exclaiming:
Excalibur's out of a drought
it helped me magic
sorrels out in march!"!
and then
He wished for Pan
and Tinkerball
to come and riggle a dance of Tan,
singing the blues out of a fountain pen.
Oh what a grimbledoo afoo
of a jingle tale!
He sure would scribble it all
stricly amour on a friendly scroll,
and sail it out to the told.
looking to find a petal frown,
He could amass thousands of
brass
scattered here amongst the rise
but none of it was sulken grass,
It was the syrens of Damasc's
He could almost hear ringging a past
that woke him out
straight of a daze
and whizzed him off to wonderlands,
in there
He followed pastures greens
seeking out
pages of current deeds,
poingnant is a question
that singles out,
towns
Eliads, symbols, and higher else,
He quested in brambles
sacred rites
along the bibles of the heart,
and stood upon a rigid
path asking:
do angels fly out down in pinks
flaffering wings
from a tilted vast?
Earthen Poisedon
Cupid's vows,
seldom eyes see them
trinck amongst our blessed,
He tried immersing thoughts
to slangs,
and wished he could wise up
and write
in Gaelic a cinderalla pale
exclaiming:
Excalibur's out of a drought
it helped me magic
sorrels out in march!"!
and then
He wished for Pan
and Tinkerball
to come and riggle a dance of Tan,
singing the blues out of a fountain pen.
Oh what a grimbledoo afoo
of a jingle tale!
He sure would scribble it all
stricly amour on a friendly scroll,
and sail it out to the told.