David Furnish serenades “sir elTon johN” at a banquet, he sings a rendition of the Supremes “can’t hurry love”, but with the word “love” being replaced by the words Elton john. The audience of seals clap vigorously when Furnish sings the line “Elton john don’t come easy, it’s a game of give and take”. Sir eltOn JoHn crouches in the corner of the banquet hall biting down hard on the jazz onion
throw three coins in the fountain, go left on the road down past where the old woman gave birth to a pair a rabid dogs, and that where you'll find it...
Would you like some flies with that?
How about a sunny day?
Dismay the disarray! Deus Irae the fray!
Fae the fawn while scrubbing the lawn. But
forget me not at the heights of a pond.
Pound for the thoughts that ring in my bed.
Trust not the cost that springs as hot lead.
Choke the vineyard with glazed moths in
mouths so green the gaping lost.
Time tickles the traveler unmossed the
stone that rolls is my private pox.
Want not lest ye be wanted
in shadow realms the sock puppets haunted.
Forgotten in climates drier than lint
they be angels pest devils mint
the money that grows from the greens.
Never such pain was restricted to beans.
There done old hat
the smell of the rat
race without end
a serial killer pace
that only a Gatha see
to it that you hang up your
telephone.
missing the strange understanding attractor my dog is dead but only an actor of plays the sun's beacon rays won't show you if there's nothing here but only if there is a hat on your barrel of monkeys
Has anybody seen my turbet, i left it here last night. On my way to the jewllers to buy a brace of welks. (you can sing that in a welsh operatic stylee, if it so does pleases you madam)
then slowly, fetishistically the long arm of the sweater wraps around a hot dog that's been plyed with liquor. Michael Caine watches feverishly the vending machine sex that takes place just down the hall, pop cans being done by Mr. Big. Alone, I feel that the stars are salad for my big midnight feast and no one else can tell me urgent.
Pigeon-holed the parapet monkied its cue, "You've sparkled ham slippers in neutron croutons for spider's time!" Alas, the easel did not Hasiddic easily and the rent was jacked like a skipping sex slowpitch in Jello drive-byes.
Piss fuck the chain gun's strafe modeling Victoria's Secret garden of lush so hambergered that YHVH would smell a husk of buzz bombed children smoking the fat lady's song in their puppy dog tents under stars that seep with the puss of one thousand hatreds catalogued by priests of breakfast tees worn by the godless who aspire for the tyre of a road killed.
Changing the banana of freedom in minute corpuscle salads the dressing gown stained with blood of virginity's tears. Rover the landrover rolled over and nary a scratch to be seamed in the sewn seeds of patriarchy the tower comes crashing down. The bolt that flies from a crossbow's eye is hurtling through his heart. But he does not see through strings of beads that shatter with a clop. A horse that dines on children’s rhymes shall plow fields best. Lay down the drive, weigh down the lust; lo! Tethered to the rest.
The rosy tint of elephantine ballgowns besets us all! Woe, woe, to the children of the great cardboard temple, shivering in their rags of tenacity and outrage!
A faint wiff of corrugated iron, the underpant convention and a new backside for Elvis, all this and more available at Dans emporium of pre-natal parafin products.
A faint wiff of corrugated iron, the underpant convention and a new backside for Elvis, all this and more available at Dans emporium of pre-natal parafin products.
A faint wiff of corrugated iron, the underpant convention and a new backside for Elvis, all this and more available at Dans emporium of pre-natal parafin products.
Skipping my stone droops afar lands of black, gold, green. If only, if only, if only, then O. Only if, only if, only if, O. A ho-ho, a he-he, a he-she, a she-she. Sheesh.
