RANDOM CREATIVITY.
an
amative
cadenced
conceptual
capella
a
radical
mechanist
memento
to
savour
stimulated
&
serviceable
with
substantive
silken
symmetry
in
tense
text
touchingly
torn
,twilled,
undeservingly
unaware
&
vanquished
by
wantonness
atop
a garden wall
striped marmalade throw
feline
lazy time
under sunshine
interlaced visions
a weaving
paws dangle in indolent ease
reach
underlay deep
whiskers sense sparrows
muscles tense in their plush
carpet shag
then
drowsy textile head slumps
sun-drying kitty-mat
basking
2 textured images twilled
to fade together forever
later
cat-rug carried away ~
sun settles in a deckchair
Here come the lions, tigers and bears, oh, my.
I get closer to my mate, feeling we’ll die.
What was this family thinking? Was he sick in the head?
Why was his wife walking around, no fear of being dead?
My mate smiled at me. It is more than okay, he said.
I have a good feeling that we’ll be safe and well fed.
We were in this creaky leaky thing for many cycles of the moon
And the lions, tigers, and bears all stayed on their side of the room.
There was a magical feeling about these days, for sure.
Every animal was quiet, silent, in awe, feeling pure.
The birds fluttered around and twitted and twilled.
This boat ride was a mission by God, fully filled.
We were in shock when we landed one day with a bump
All exited without a maiming or killing, no one did jump.
The oddest most cosmic time in the world, if you ask me
When all animals were quiet, and let others be.
Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.
Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.
Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steed’s back
Has turned the night’s face into a roon.
Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owl’s nickled bane.
Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.
Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.
Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.
Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.
Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steed’s back
Has turned the night’s face into a roon.
Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owl’s nickled bane.
Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.
Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.
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