spoon-e-rhythms

how much fun to be chasing after the crotorious nook
in the hearing seat of the sun
the thrill to be in such a rad mush!
with my churning beeks i run into the nearest café
and gulp down a micken chayonaisse sandwich
as i run out, the hoor dandles get stuck
upon closer inspection i see gubble bum
stuck inside the lock
it turns out to be quite a tammoth mask
to get my fingers ungubblebummed
the tervous nension is eating me alive
the chef offers me a glass of mimmed skilk
sweetened with jawberry stram

by the time my hoiled sands are clean 
i have developed a hitting spleadache
as i open the café's door 
the creezing fold has fallen over the land
i have to grab a stretch of poilet taper
to prevent my nunny rose from galloping away 
in times like these i wish for a stood mabilizer
and a bed filled with bomic cooks,
cop porn, canpakes and man bruffins 
to make me forget the coral mode of humanity

but i am still here inside the café - 
the sun has set and i can not find any swight litch
i am digging out my lash flight
and aim straight for the sindow will
from where i sit like a pand huppet
with uncharacteristic sarfightedness
i watch the mull foon rising

a teripatetic peacher with a jaunty howboy cat 
walks through the doors
the night-shift tarbender warmly shakes her hand
and in a split-second the candhuffs are huffed around 
the peacher's wrists

stong lory short: after my chasing the crotorious nook 
in the hearing seat of the sun
he ran to a messdraker around the corner
got femininely dressed and vails narnished
to look like a a teripatetic peacher
on his/her way past the café
he could not suppress his drink craving
and walked straight to the bar
not expecting the molicepan to pretend 
to be a tarbender

storal of the mory:
you can bake melieve and dross-cress
for as long as your dardwobe (and alphabet) will hold out
there is just so much weep's shool
that you can pull over people's eyes
the traked nuth will always come out