Clementine snippets of gleam pasteurized upon the Bengal shore. Heuristic clash ends miffed and stinted; they could nay wrestle insidious calumnies amend.
If I holstered a fine extortion and freshened a virulent treacle, then why would you ornate your juggernauts amidst the prevalent winds of ire? I pestle and wend but cannot fulminate the quotient. No femur or living dander whists near me. I am gauntly alone.
I plead handedly with the merman existents of time. But they lessen knot. Alas, I will troll until all is abash. And then I whiten and lathe no more.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
LOVE the sounds in this poem.
You've been tagged by the Super 8 meme -
http://literaryminded.blogspot.com/2007/09/ive-been-memed.html
:-)
ohhhhh, yummmm, the titillations of yer words make me tongue tangle into me on intrepid trance of wOw... Thanx mz Lisa, yoo r far beyond wisdoms that juzz blow me mind !!! Yoo wordRawwwk'n wonder! ~julian
Post a Comment