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Jibberish is Music to My Ears |
Enchanted Spring Onions of Writing.com A news item in The Dark Play - simplified Yesterday before the day before yesterday, a Limerick came befuddled before the understated garment enterprise while I was juxtaposing my patches of sanityware with the best extrapolations of the century. She asked my introverted lexicons about the stuffy noses of elementary confabulations and railed about dry oodles of mothballs that kept falling and rubbishing away till Queendom come. Being the hemoglobinous blob that I am, I shucked the mountain of gelatin into my ears and replied that the stated purpose of all porpoises is perpetual parody. The random feelings that I had conjured were trephined into the blood-bones of the said converter till the last of the Mohicans had expropriated into the nebula of the Ridiculous. Seeing my dreadful ouvre, the phantasmagoric scruples of my glamorous spatulas did a televised projection of tring tring spring and disapparated. Ultimately, the spurned chicken came first and not the Projected Last Testament to the Delirious Gang of Ten thousand Extemporaneous Singaporeans. Blood ran down the ceiling of the Forbidden 36th Chamber of the Snow-White and her Red Rose and their stupid Rapunzeleans. Drums susurrated, cymbals trampolined and the Styptich melted before my troublesome ventricles into nothingness. ##Dr.Taher##   Check out: "Childhood Innocence"  "Child's Lament" "Sepia Memories" I do not suffer from insanity. I positively enjoy every moment living it! |
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