The sand in the desert,
the rocks in the bush,
the trees in the forest sing.
With the reeds amungst the hutch,
who so evers bell will ring.
Vibrate concrete in the cities,
and the water in the lakes.
the fences in the urban village,
containing all those gates.
The shrubs around the rivers,
the grass among the plains.
the beautiful snow capped mountain peaks,
where theres some of my remains.
theres a doubling of the senses, a thirteeth line to draw.
when twinning up our sensors,
they take up more and more.
twin thirteenth sections,
or a quintripple five plus one.
be it a duedecahadron,
or trippleseven plus five we sum.
having only twenty six teeth,
should I be happy to be alive.
tell that to the other two,
whos twins were left behind.
between domination and damnination,
whichever will you choose,
If it were me, and I had my tea – a tripple would just defuse.

But were here now at the junction,
twenty six – in each hand.
now my intellect ask me,
which captial do I demand.
I fumble about with opposites,
I questions my mode operandee.
I check my pockets by picking each one.
feeling only one of each knee.
but then I realise what I’ve got
and whats been given to me.
those twenty six little fucking shapes and how to use,
all granted for me to glee.

double twelve plus one is common,
I favor it alot.
when taking the time to hurry,
check which one you’ve got.
if its the golden fives,
time for a drive to test,
your bound to give it a trot.
and focus less on the rot.
the sevens is where it gets funky,
we tend to get to ten.
if theres an eight in the way,
you’ll be tending to say,
shit and fuck and what again.

Dickheads at ready, poofters at the rear.
where going ahead, your better off dead,
dont be headlighting the eyes of your deer.

Lesbians rejoice, yours is a valid choice.
you wanted to rule, created a raced mule,
Now the horses all stand behind Gates.

If women rule, their gospel fuel,
must be logic shear delight.
their fairer way, their hopeful days, make poems my pair flight.

If men do care and know whats fair,
how do children fare on so,
left to be, to hunt down glee,
is such as no other sight.

strings of memes, stories of me’s,
reliving all my height.
each contains, whats been refrains,
from years and years of might.

gry little man, think that thought,
help to complete your lot.
you auto type, that its not hype,
just a madman reaching out.

clipart, culture, couldersack,
it all sounds so incomplete.
If it were shown, how we were grown,
we’d seldom use our feet.

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