We file piles of dialed smiles for miles and miles.

Just a initerant iliterate whos have fun with the reiterate.

Nor oring or snoring, just rhyming with chiming.

Not exing the perplexing, nor jexing a gestering.

Just walking and talking about squeaking and squalking.

Rounding our vowels and harping on owls,

The eagles dared try, but the chickens knew why.

We hawk on a crow, and parrot a fashion.

Making senses of heaven and with hells furry leason.

festival for song and dance, not regretting not getting to france.

Pigeon poets and falconic flighted fantacy,

philatic pheasents with turkyed peacock pedigree’s.

we file piles of smiles for those of melodic miles,

and we dialed a smile for each invisible eye.

Honing our focus of their center and locus.

Proper Prana, sounding indeed, an of – a cov – a cher-cher-sherinade.

darma does what darmas do, breaching, beseaching, preaching and teaching.

So gather your hoarses, gather your woes,

stack them on top, pitch them far with those hoes.

I didnt wonder, I didnt say, that an upbringing in english – is really dismayed.

didnt the dutch, do it dual,

replicating the formula, making use as a fuel.

merchants, sailers, cartels and sheaks,

came from all over, to check out their sheets.

They had Jews and Romans, Latiners and some,

who identified as gypsies and others with none.

But on went the world, fingers waving for mum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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