The Edict of the Arse

Grinning is always winning

With faces of gimps and leavers of love I lore loquaciousness,
I see lovenkrands living in liquid to lick Lily,
Ripping the clothes from your mind will reveal radishes of
rapid loving,
Guided by Gilliam I gild grins,
I sore souls soaring on sandbags of sodomised monkeys,
Shocked by shaved shivering sherbet we all bought umbrellas,
Lay me down on tables of licking lickerish and love,
Oh well we all dance until death.

But all is right with me

Promises scorned in times mourned,
The raw of the four is no more as the tree that incubuses me is she,
Known by names of nurture we are but three,
But all is right with me.

The Majesty of the Fallacious Mind

The wonderment of words that dance upon def ears,
Flames of my heart once so bright now flicker in the moonlight,
Legs of a thousand journeys now only wield footprints in the past,
Solitude sort in the face of the reaper sore friendships fall,
Whilst gravity of gratitude no longer holds sway,
All that is left is Sayers of sooth who sell the mercurial truth ripped from the rose lip.

In the time of Kurt

Bovey in the lands of Velvet Hands

Bovey was her name and she danced in green rain,
She lived in lands of made of velvet hands,
Her aim was to gain the mirror of shame,
With friends such as the dame she never hid her face in vain,
Tables made of worms and eyes of knees we share such a sneeze,
The butterfly king stung by the very young of the jellyfishes bum,
With legs of feet of six and feet of lead arms that bore flowers of darkening hours the Greatin monster roamed the velvet hands,
Bovey travelled on giant grapes pulled by flying apes,
And we are all off to see the Sharman of Shalamain shimmering in silver slippers.

Let's Smile For A Wile