the silly young handmaidens spring to the fore their hands awash in blood and gore in triumph they dance upon the lawn stomping on peacocks from dusk until dawn oh the empty-hearted deed with great misfortune did succeed Burma Shave
i want to wear my socks today filled with lumber, coal, and hay but if this wish i can’t fulfill i’ll wear my socks, one on each ear
the tight eyes of the braided rope haunt – the spiral cord, engorged, continues to dine, methodically chomping – the pain of spillage is bloody but neatly defined – i remember the tractor fondly when i tap my sleeping foot against the gleaming radiator – monstrous my owl – harpsichord lost in the dunes
the daggers of ice hang from the eaves the daggers of ice eschew wearing sleeves the daggers of ice at this time and space juncture a bear or a rabbit would gleefully puncture
oh fearsome sight when the creature plunges from beneath its blanket of snow to cruise the lake in search of kayaks in the early morning glow oh dreadful fate for the clueless tourist who takes a paddle in hand to test his mettle in the crispy air and nevermore walks on land
I recall, I recall tasting teenagers in the mall I recollect, I recollect milkmaids plump and whitely necked I remember, I remember stepping on a burning ember I think back, I think back to pleasant times upon the rack I call to mind, I call to mind a fisherman on whom I dined I reflect, […]
My love is like a red, red nose Swollen and disgusting My love’s like Teddy Roosevelt Minus the trust busting My love is like a heap of scraps In the field and rusting My love is these and all things more With an extra bowl of frusting
O, give me a ball O, please O, please A ball that I can bat Or throw Or catch Or kick Or eat Or carry Or wear as a hat
The scandal at Zarcraft Inn took place on a blustery winter’s day The scandal at Zarcraft Inn concerned a monk, a duck, and a sleigh The scandal at Zarcraft Inn was not for the young or the faint of heart The scandal at Zarcraft Inn, my friends, was Napoleon Bonaparte
There once was a thing of some sort or other That did something that rhymed with the sort of thing it was Then something else happened And the last word of whatever it was got rhymed in this next line And finally the original something was rhymed again, usually with a humorous twist
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Doc's Lunacy
5 of 5 stars to The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton goodreads.com/review/show/55…
