The best thing to do is to stay awake at night. The best thing to do is try a second night if you can believe it. Helios been doited all night. Prepare hymns to dye. you are singeing. If you know the night, the culprit has a small photostat and in the middle of the night he gets up in the dark and takes a historian without sitting.
Until that night
then please stop
One night
all night again
night night night night
One night
all night again
then please stop
Are they folk singers?
A chorus of joy and the emergence of adults
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All of the bear’s limbs are sacred heartwood.
Evie during Holly
Are they musicians?
I'm good at singing, and I'm older.
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Every part of the dog is sacred.
Evie and Holly
The parents form the entire crown.
Are these people singers?
I remember that Shams lived a happy life -
Evie and Holly
And the face of an old man happily walking on his dog's lap - Evie and Holly
Parents wear full crowns -
make flowers
As berries passed by, I saw the broken face of an old man.
His fake sword will send you a sweet bear onion's songs
Warting family call people
Ivy's parents are model Holly Ivy.
Ivy Rap an old holiday song.
All indoor dogs deserve a home and privacy
All that's missing is a pair of shoes. They pop up everywhere like little sinners, eucalyptus and tulip leaves are frequently affected. Here they looked like schoolboys, strange fishermen on the Tree of Mortise Dada.
The desert deserves a haiku
or something beautiful.
The industrial desert is yours -
Beautiful castle!
None of the renaissance stuff that mime saxophonists and musicians have offered in the last decade is appealing to retro haigii-kulei or anyone else most affected by chronicle loss. What's missing is the casuist ralian influence on iconic bottle souls. If there is no zero, the shape of the silver plate will be distorted. Are you against this situation?
This is the ultimate purple stream guide for anyone thinner than you. The mythic missing moon is setting, and the night is gradually getting deeper, deeper, deeper. Deeper Disaster prevention and dumb matinée equipment conveys constitutional flux-flange pie filling. They want to know if it's cold - emerald circuit baker.
The day has come when the silver hands of dreams dance with beauty. It was empty....... a nullified vortex stew. What should I do? But the last time I saw you, I was gone.
The moon set, and the night opened with silver hands. Dream of dancing with mythopoeic beauty. It looks better than the last time I saw it. And there you are: a full, relaxed face. It was empty - Wood, you can jump deep deep deep creeping and leave me.
I had the word seething on the page, and I chanced to see a sequence of recommended YouTube titles.
The imagery of all the disparate video headlines were fitting cutups for a Dadaist Collage-Poem.
The stone atmosphere is literally fash'l, the posture of fasting. But Hints are such a personage that they quaffled toxicant potomania. When the wall is wet, the wet wall weeps nullifidian thermalgesia.
Behaviour of earthquake walls – an epigeous comminator butterfly wings. Maze kitchen was dedicated, so that the water rose “as high as the arytenoid preessential cinnamon phantom waves” before turning to stone.
Stone has other unique properties -
Coptic exhilarant coyote phonation,
in knowledgableness green
these Hellenic limitless orchid-leaves
cubes caution -
even the walls are crumbling here
In the sagest stag alights
no knot spagyric candle
how soon it must sit.
As limitless puddles drone...
askew knowledge enables less
nesting into pearls,
pearls!
birds again
sweat winds
This tree is a kind of chicken. And another unusual feature is that this stone tablet quietly speaks to two spiritual issues.
~ Chef Boyardee, you make Good Cookies.
~ Mamma Mia, that's a spicy oatmeal.
still drowning
the memory faded
digressions
transgressions
synaptic connections
a tiny scream
all the blood
fathoms deep
godlike achilles
smothered in mud
torn by briars
gasping for breath
the impossible
hidden amulets
deeper, darker
forbidden to us
burning towers
blood curdling
a dark stain seeps
under my nails
flat calm
blackened with dust
dead quiet
a kindness
a kindness is what it is
only one confused impression
a stiff and worn noose that
had been used to hang a man
spinning for a string of blonde girls
this is the alternative history
embracing the moment of stillness
the output of a cursed and dismal mind
young men and women currently adrift
swept the country like a swarm of locusts
i've made such a bargain with the devil
classified by range and by complexity
the pages thick and of good quality paper
cottonmouth moccasin churning in the shallows
one house engulfed in flames
it never has anywhere to go
though the clouds are threatening
we have done nothing but climb
a single-story building branching off
on a strip of undeveloped land
every hotel in the world had a rat or two
ugly beyond nightmares, uttering pitiless
against the backdrop of empty skies
toward a white line of vines and trees
where does a story begin?
where does anything begin?
heard the beat of her heart, and felt her throbbing pulse
boys and men came from every corner of the globe
to measure this most immortal of endeavours
when girls read everything,
why should not an old woman write anything?
Paper tiles’ testimony can be rectangular
>> A Dadaist Prose Poem <<
Paper tiles’ testimony can be rectangular. Otherwise, the conversation will end. Obviously, this is a problem. I will only explain the juxtaposition section. The story never ends.
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