Thursday, January 12, 2012

It's Accelerated Odder, Thinks Whorl Tom

A lark before all the earth,
Said Evary Pisthetaerus, but
My first thought was,
He lied in every word,
His odder honk throwing milt, and
Each thought for a crippled watching,
The mouth’s gleeful victim
Full in face, and we.

And for his staff ensnaring,
The wizened copula there,
Laughing epitaphs as all-
Thorough-fair, or worded
Ohm, troth to a kiln by a şekil;
All is well, I said.

And then his honk grew odder:
Calla, calla, senor Don Carlos (EP),
Toto’s cheese haze is porcelain.
Huh? How should ominous hands
Acquiescingly turn to rekindling
Gladness, non liquet?

As a wandering drawn down,
And fit to bring Spring, but
Only finding Herrschaftsgebilde?
As an accelerated molded
Slug-horn worth a kit of
Noddled mirth?
All is well, I said.

But discuss this
In your day suits, for
It is no shame
To only crave love,
The doodler's mirth
Of the Nth wok, the
Moth who thinks
Ohm trow would
Troth a hot wort
When throwing irksome
Wroth on a thorned worm..

What odd honk
Would thee have mi machen,
A childe rolling on
Virouciously toward the fame
Twoer to meet Lord Wonk's
Hotly trotting whims, non liquet?
All is well, I said.

A toddler's whim
Is honking rot;
Biçimi, biçimler
Gesceap piscop,
A båt, farty w/ g's
Makes good romaunts
Just like Virsantes...