Ode to a Slithering Margrave

That lives in my towel, but
One floor down: defense!

Defense! defense!
Frontier! frontier! frontier!

(They live in hear)[...]

Bread hands legion on the inward curling towel,
Town bright with head-jugs [smile, or frown]
Filling themselves where
A fountain of towels lay in cars [llama-hydrant-axe-heads]

The slithering Margrave, its big boon urban drum,
The lewd invader's love, star shaped-towels
Are limp on cross ponies.

Here, I've cut back the dirt,
And odalisque soap knights
In transparent verbena-smelling armor
Call out from flexing bullet cars
Giving towel:

Our cash is printed
With the emmage of the ear
A different ear!

//

The Margrave
Is a dong in beer
With ears
(W/ towel halo ahover, aspin)[...]

Where does the Margrave begin, its
Body like a blob of jug-heads filling themselves
On dirt and ponies?

The lavender drool of gems
From alabaster balcony lips
Made sanguine by clusters of harps
Spinning at incredible speeds...

What's to heed? )hear*

Rays of jug heads bounce from our towels
And our cloth

Is holy tary.

What dimension is given to Margrave, is thus given
To all the Jugheads and their towels, proclaim!

A monster veneris
Under green shorts
Could leaven any blob of~

Defense! defense!
Frontier! frontier!

You'd never have to see that Margrave crawl again!
No!

Never neeed to see that poor dong
crawling on ears like elbows
Upon a river of towel to Gurdin.

Gurdin!
A place where Jugheads live inside
The dirt and pony slide,

Avalanche and architecture
Being vaguely similar...