A fickle pickle occurs when a barytic agent is introduced. Moving onward to eat one of the tainted fruits, the result is shameless drunken bacchanal behavior. Vomiting may produce sintered clumps. Extralinguistic speech may occur with reversionary doubting crosshatched with psychical deformities of the tongue. Curdling spital may also be present. Unspecific hallucinations, plainspoken tales of oblong and moist body parts usually follow within 24 hours. Momentous as all this may seem, one must be ready for even more animated behavior.
Summing up, if you eat a fickle pickle you will become nutty in thought, word and deed!
(constructed with words from Poetry Soup random word generator.)
Categories:
sintered, cheer up,
Form: Prose
Here I reflect in a mystical place,
A multitude of mirrored me
That I can see both back and face.
We all stand here at a tension,
Bounced back and forth along the curve of infinity,
Spaced out on a line through a new dementia. 'n'
Clamoring crowds of me coalesce
And diverge on twisted tracks.
In the thick of the throng, it feels all wrong.
I don't even know which is me.
I'm splintered and splattered,
I'm sintered, then shattered.
There seems no way to get free.
Diffused, bemused, split, and re-knit.
Who am I trying to be?
It's too far to see! There's too much thinking!
Trapped in the middle, I'm, slowly sinking.
Too much is revealed; too much is concealed.
I stand here congealed in the cold.
How can I harvest the thoughts that pass,
Flying, rebounding from glass to glass,
The insights that start to unfold?
I'm hungry for meanings, but after the gleanings,
Too few kernels of truth left to hold!
A light gleams somewhere in back of the glaze,
Behind the showers of reigning daze.
Resigned, but despairing, and feigning uncaring,
I break off my staring,
Stepping back in my chill, damp mold.
Categories:
sintered, confusion,
Form: I do not know?
Sintered tiles of green wreathed marbles
bejewelled in steps that elevate to where you are entombed
incense wafts white and slate, demure and shy
my growing guilt is deflowered by your-her friend's- sly smirk
she scoffs along-was she forgotten, faded and gone when you left her cow carcass dead
she winced and sighed names that were you- breathing in your sights and smells
that had faded bad and blue, she had meant it with every cigar cad
she was whisky and powder for long till we had her
and they screwed and pinned her to her cross
her passion was her death as it guffawed along
your memory comes late..she is lying in state!
I pay ,bray,stay,hay,lay and walk the green wreathed marble back!
Categories:
sintered, lifegreen,
Form: Free verse