Scribbles and Doodles
You and yours’ waterworks welsh on the parade
A zeugma-blurring sotong, I’m afraid,
And a dtiin-mɛɛo, meowing as they mock,
as they bemoan, the morn’s slipshod news by the Shrewsbury clock.
There are none such hidebound quondam hounds as those,
Whose secreted skulls hoax humane pose,
Or freedom of the press,
As later models literally profess.
An imprint for a devil’s advocate
In its details, is a devilish fate.
Whosoever does swallow and follow,
fail to fathom the frumious,
craftivists of semiotics,
who wallow like wretched latchkey kids,
in ratty redàrios,
their electronic books
knocked into a cocked hat.
Here hangs poetic Poplarism
as excrescence over heads.
Bring Up The Blog Bogs The last thing one wants in the lachrymator borstal, is an à la Tène skattefar hating on habeas corpus blog bowl searching, a short shrift lexicographer lamenting reverential out-of-print poems by indie polyglots.
Boerebeskuit And as header for a final resting place the buhrstone of the darg can make its last stand. Eldritch necklace that haunts sui-similar àlmājìrīs’ dreams, it deduces and retargets the publishing of Queensborough mayor’s daily bread from rock-hard rusk to polyglot patisserie.
The one-horse cognoscente know that old age does not bestow trilingual Wanderworts as last resorts. It is phronesis to scomfish, to saegida, and to decussate, and then to wait, in case the looking glass reflects myopia instead of hoped-for hyperopia.
