oh here you are, another po ehm. |
In an unlevened hour singing of birches and breadcrumbs cloudy eyed Murky Mullen preyed on lamb's feet and wool fleece unthinking and starcrossed fanned with frustration in heat and hot sweat parted of bliss and curled into a nest heavy set and pancaked 'tween eyes ears nose mouth and tooth grinding crunch and munch sunken pirate's treasure trodden neath water and wave uncared of by murky or mullen or moore, but scared of by more and moer and moore. Who's to say, flunked out fastened to the dawning of a grey whale's last day charged by an ember of steel stricken raw in the air, water grumbling on top and then in darkness rendered in mincemeat go go go childish and brash coming swift at the eye chopped flesh, ruined jelly in a mucky muck pyle murky mullen murky mullen in a drop of red dye pulling fast from the flesh lingers in lightime carried on wings to his jellical home with his hot jellied things drink it up and around to the corner we'll see where the autumn air dies and refuses to breath into nose mouth and skin stirred round soft into bells and a paisly stripe pattern pulls at scales from the south windy do windy don't sing the song of m. mullen and the rouge put on softly aching throbbing from a bludgeon put into the fire, to soothe and then say the grey whale's a grate whale to have on this day. |