Friday, August 30, 2019

THUNDERSTORMS AND ROSEBUD THORNS

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Not a sprinkling of floating dewdrops, a massive creation humongous winds tornadoes hurricanes tsunamis, tortures, a brewery adultery to be chained to a yoke in a public square, no longer to embarrass her there. 

Puerto Rico splashed smashed with rain becoming hail a dent in the head to break the skull, not your business to mull to hide in a bomb shelter missiles gloriously galore. A gaiety of gumption who wants the function. A leader of people how? By following. Who do you follow? Your fellow. Not to ever steal, covet a fellow. Malaria is yellow. Mosquitoes silent no bellow. Hippopotamus no muss. She too lets out a "boo" a bust. A real animal, not my grounds, they're Buddhist sounds. One God for all? My car is in a stall. A horse in a barn, a red thread made of yarn. Carrots to tempt, Karate, it's not exempt. Marijuana called hemp.

Why can't we fly? We have no wings. An eagle waves her wings and she sings. When does she sing? Just before bed. Can we keep her quiet? The surgical removal of her tonsils, instead.

A shoshana a rose, on a trellis not to impose. Thorns yes, she be, not to scare me, not the forbidden number three. A piercing thorn to prick, a flood of blood. Thorns scorns, scrape, rape, roses for you? No thanks, no view. Growing in the mud. View of who, a ghost that says "boo"? She never told me. There was nothing to tell. Just word after word, you just must spell. Put a spell of a curse upon he who drives a hearse. Sprinkle Hyssop on her head, she was a witness of too many dead.

CPR to revive a life. It's too late, only strife, a widow, she was, a wife. To now bury her hair in a scarf a wig, no drowning driving wine to swig. 

Once upon a time there was a family. Now it is your fellow, so no calamity.

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