Friday, January 29, 2010

Sunday Scribblings #199: Yes

yessy girls all
hibbly bibbly

in their moats,

toasting the aftermen,

physical specimens

of glandular gloat:


the geriatric tenderfish,

misaligning the pigeon toes

of fossil fame, casting

new light on the limes

in the barrows

fruit, the dipsy doodle

parade, gallivanting

in tinseltown,


tinsel instigations
while we wile

the rest of the connotations

down the drain.

Meet me at the bus bench

if you doubt

the diagnosis,

a blistering critique

of the whetherwear

in the last row.

She flashed her

jellies &

the race was on

to see which

way the dilly


Rusticants all,

cherry time,

passive improper

fractions baiting

the Astrodome of flesh,

the Superdome of boggle.



Blogger Teresa said...

and wardrobe malfunctions? I like this one. It is quite fun, and it tesseracts all over the place: movie stars, nude beaches, performances, sports games, high school, bars, and all the other places that people strut their stuff. You may start a cat fight, bro.

8:16 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: Twas fun to see where you took this one, unearthing the consciousness of the unconscious poet. Flim-flammery abounds for sure, in all the places you note, and, I 'm sure, many more. Some fine tesseracting there, Sister T.

11:53 PM  
Anonymous Richard said...

Huge fun! I'm going to read this one to Los Dos - I think they'll like it.

4:38 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Richard: I'm sure the poet and Los Dos were separated at birth.

4:42 PM  

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