Pomes

								Pomes:

	WTBHAC
Wet tea-bag hits apple core
Unpredictable unimmoral chance
Wet tea-bag hits apple core
Belated diaphragm dance
Wet tea-bag hits apple core
Calcify this brief hebephrenia
Wet tea-bag hits apple core
Return the serve jouissance a



	LITTLE GUY FLY
In our glaring, happenstance muddy hill
Neither exit, entrance nor extant,
Lacked but one corner.
Rubble blurred against faded painted rusty coops.
"Never been here before", I fatally remarked
It was not in our torus town's tautology,
To look at the easpa meon.

In our interruption, ruminated,
Chanced ambitious chestnut wings and a point-eyed perspective.
Either fear froze or frantically glad,
For four eyes' audience.
The bird, beaked with a snail shell at him;
He fucked it off the curb.
Cracked to be the sight, he grabbed his lón, kinds of awe to us.



	WIIINE SWIIINE
Whaddup bitch, I eat da tree of the grape
They call me the double trouble wiiiiiiiine swine (wiiiiiiiine swine)
You know you wanna hear my hebephrenia
My bropologies (apologies for bro), I shouldn’t have taken your beautiful way with words for granted
Forgive me or ill hang myself by the grape vine (wiiiiiiiine swine)



	Dgfhg
Fgsfds
Yhsdt, jmb wrds flafflalaffa DOOOWEEP
Basqu itopopipop yabba dee yabba who?
Fgsfds fgslrr But what mean?
あymca gsk. . .



	DJ NUANCE
D-D-D-DJ Nuance;
Coming at you from both sides.
The pursuit of unbiased discussion.
Neutral in the public’s eye.
The marketplace of ideas.
It's where he mediates and crafts.
Structuring detailed reality, Like Ikea’s (not sponsored (not unsponsored))
Intricate subtlety, neither black nor white.
2 ears, 1 mouth, many truths.
Providing the stage to argue from an equal height.
DJ Nuance; Try not to deal in absolutes.



	That time when
I remember I took some knowledge once.
It was a very rainy day and I was under an umbrella.
Some ape came up to me with an offer I can't refuse,
All it costs is the worth of my umbrella.
I didn't take the offer, not that I could choose.
Ants don't make deals, they make memories.



	Parallel Channel
Past west end's bridge down the path
Verso, along the banks
in sync to blackwater's prose
a stranger mellow and meek

Flattery precise like math
Recto, perspective shrank
an eager parallel pose
for a photo past the creek

You then scratch another stone
and cast out a bouncing jaw
Ripe circles on stream propells
I pick up your calcified tome

Peering up you wave alone
the conclusions I can't draw
a River Styx unlike hell's
We coast, tangents of our home



	River Blackwater Poem
The concrete is soaked, the street static and nauseated.
Perlin noise plumes in a powerful vein, it's lashing
And spontaneous strands are combed and cascading.
The air greyed in gradient, layer and layer of falling flood
Adding to the heaps and piles of coagulating blood.
The river might shout, it might outburst.
We say with tendency tis another dreadful day.

When all signed off, elsewhere, the lash's postal stamps
Glistened teeth at the low end's tarp of Town.
The sovereign sky, less grey, had never moved
But men hued red and green alternate in arteries.
It's the site of hurried flow, tributary pavement lamps.
We wish our floods could compare, they're dehydrated.

I scour the banks, unamused at another storm.
Squashed earth calcifies and our streets form habit.
Dew will dry and grass will grow, steel halts at green.
Dynamic yet undetermined, I only pan for gold
Prospects are shy, my plate poisoned with drought.
Mallow, Here I'm Young!
And the river shall flood again.
For now, from then, during every gust and gale!
We reckon that fields ought not be poor
For this our puddles, our veins, our lakes and lowly pools
Deserve lash, and rain, they earned every downpour.


	Boustrophedon
You sect you pensive tendant fool
why does the day not cut
a slice to the suspensionary
ligament but ligation is
what we call a notion

The grate convert clumps yet
Still the dairy doesnt sublimate.
You list you annominative cordoned
coarse series of steps. I want a melt

The ride inversed far too sharp and
youre not blunt enough in a round
round about projectile of covet.
Acidic acidic cheese; It's mention

Rejiggs a proper love for steam



	Chewing Rogue Gum
Sapped tyres stretch there out
For forests, parting spruce and spruce.
Well, I blame the shambakes
For never cutting their crop.
It was them, but them, who put the
Soot back in my cup.

Cookeries and Bodories and cones.
May vines stay grown, away,
Far from what you know;
What you don't shall burn
Like rubber or rubber or tea.
I enjoy the leaves all the same.

Don't cast snow outside our pine,
Let it only sully the tracks.
Bask away from blanket Id,
And please deal a tap of my bread.
I know it misses the oven. But you,
Yourself's bilious myrrh, longs its glow.



	Biressurection
Suppose, You; heafty sentiment and heir to the owner Auldog, drew desire
A to B. Linear in all, the shortest breath. It's the net of Patchy briefly rearing.

Who whoever crosses you need not have knew or known.
Only lack such and such. You, an old pain in the sides of grainy air.
I've you stabbed yearly, you hold more air than flute. could you
Pick thorns? Fruitless flute.

Some call you treadsome as they waltz, wander, amble, it's cystic.
B-line to greet some, scofffilled, converse in decoiled spring.
Then some else, A-grade sculpt and form, savants in noise.
Bring to you depressions in wish, not a yearn halfways between
The gaps of your grain. Pillows of yours rearrange and soft the couch,
Without ever being used in bare quadratic quarrels. Fightdry flute.

Not even once letting chickens flap their own feathers. You let
Sine single out the only one playing a note. Your resonance,
That of concrete plates and the accompanying album cover,
Has been crocheted with mesh wire. Spongeline solvent absorption,
Accomplishment for you not Patchy. Fractal flute.

Lyrically your language is international but I find it's in contention
For the breeziest talk that I ever had the airy disheart to have spotted.
You weave paranoia and lethargy in a sense so strong
It ought be reckoned, but I'd seldom reckon it well,
Then there's him, he is you in permutated fluteless platonic mind's eye.
Thieve thieve in negative correlation, breakneck freak.

May he always steal your many sanguine thought or sight.
No notes.
Reiterating here: to be absolutely thorough, before ye, in a long lost temper,
Coheated the wind which had sales rotating arseways.
Aah but then along listless lines, you, fondless flute.

Defined. Grains of yours filled synaptic lumpy forethoughts.
Take you now, he's worse off but wretched still you are.
Pining still you boiled dormant feed, the flute is none yet
It still snaps and crackles, some consider it a pout.

You miss the ruckuss of whoever he crosses, they fly. His agentful mould.
You only promise a ravaged bowl and what? Now you line our stomachs
Always full. He's found with knives gritty, not a grain.
Skindeep chill has you fond of the porridge you boiled bastard.
There's barely a lick between ye. Only still the from analysis of the surface
We note multiple tentions. Stabless skin of yours, absent of reconsiliant
Patches of oil. I digress for that case.

Canon of ye tectonic in sharpness that seperates. He passes tounge-kept,
Lulls in coat and brings forth pigment to his heartbeat, though now, you
Then are spoken through eyes, tilt, patter and very well through the
Wishywashy custom culture of covet. Hardly a concert to-be.
Visceral vibrato you, not a cymbal or tsunami to plop. Traffic and trackways and
Currents currents without a crash. BLEAR. Dim as you do,
Next you have the tention inherent in broken water cushioned.

He steals your show, but you advertise in other lustre sublime tarspark.
Wormwood to the orchestra. You in all your Auldog sensibilities. Patchy's lie
Propagated with every hole in the flute. Exaserbatedly he reckons, though
Perhaps you wish and want he didn't, that not a knife or squabble will ignite
In you a blessed flame. He rallies at you and brings all the part in act and as they
Push you to and fro you only grumble. You murmur that Patchy is, not like you or
Him, though still not a soul met the Auldog, you mend that Patchy is crazy and wild.



	Personable
ERR. ERR.
appleskin
ERR. ERR
cold heat, c'mon bobble
leave the loaf just the bottle.
sighs and shuffles off your
next of kin.

Crur-ur. Khk. Lub-dub clinical light
murmurs, clatter, beneath the tiles
open quiet agony, silent chastise.
You know dates and times and clocks
schedules and crusts and biles.
Distant thumps, fabric fabric knocks
Space the frosted frame, can't count
past the corner. Can't plan out
half of half an hour. Brlgh-wghgh. k-hK.

Daily fruit, daily fruit. Rrrrrrrr.
Swift red and far from the tree
no time to shreik. not tap tap
dash, core ache. oiled on tardy tea.
Forty. Slotted neat, berry map.
Dnlg-glng Wvvfp-vvvv. Myrrh.

Cyan clay, cream stomp stomped
Idioteque whirrs, ripened noise
The sap and apple and stem on a hill
passing auxin, the bastard bombed.
Rebel's rhythm, current. Static sole joys.
Roll and rock. Scratch lub-dub. Red will.
Hinderance haze, splat manic dry puddles.

Runner, splitter, raspvoidant sprout!
Berry-eyed burgundy and vitamined plump
teeth of quills. smiles, I sang sod along.
Peaty apple pomped and chuckled south.
Morning bell! Unroll so! Apple and not a gong!
Shoot up. Thump thump. Boulder on a lump.

Hgha cxrugh-ugh, wander leaves pendulum
As I cough whole and willow, I can't
shake the air of apple sap lining my throat.
Iron and A and H three two one.
I crust up another crashing chant. Graurgh-hxkc.
On my Pink Lady hold, "Ugh I'm dumb"
All by quater to nine, pome bruise, hardly footnote.



	As good as it gets
We now get day old selfdigesting salad
contained for convenience sake.
It blisters nimh on my tounge and
the food goes against my breath.

Handpicked. handsealed and home
made; tack and stew from the cozy
fine wine labour of a hard working
four year old. The fruits of exponents



	Sousveillor
Sentimental airy flood bank-teller
feck off from the root incisor of
yours truly, should you nerve it,
soot will reside in your rathole.

The bank-teller promptly widthdraws:
"rather daunting" or so it should seem
to be just misordered muck, panning
for precious previous -- mold!



	Continuity-Sickness!
There's many ways to lug skull and bone:
by the coat-hang, perpendicular, bilaterally
radial in a projection to the sea floor. Or perhaps
you're angular, modern, a tip-toed fad
lugged by the Evergreen. Those kinds
are capable of winding the forecast
or so I say.

It's there now, your styrofoam,
cosined to the disco's rigmarole.
The hollow tooth notes bramble like
mucus and you say its like that one
term, the metonymy for sand. Sedimentary?
Semantic drift wash by watch and backwatch,
makes you sound reasonable while on
your way to the rosy sentiment.
Don't it?

Ugh shut up. No skull,
no bone, no starfish, not many a
sight ever brought you
to talk like Spinozan.
There's only membrane between
them and you, afterall, only.

There's many ways about the cold, many stale breads
left in the cupboard, and you only toast one by one.
Each crumb a tactful rock that's mined for
merisomatic "Oooo Shiny", and you don't mucus
your toast or butter your forehead. You sent
the shot messangers back to the loaf,
in awe, Spinoza be damned, that Schimmel
moves and grows, and you'
're the one that folds



	Discarded Fruit Pastille Ice Pop Wrapper
crackle o dawn;
my constitution.
live laugh lung.
head snapped forlorn,
and they punctuate speeches
when i crack heads delight.
don't airy air air me;
i can't see sought from sight,
i recite pometric
til my mash has blight.



	Clinical, Cold, Sensitive, Convector
It has a still shine, an odd
latch vying for current,
red matt, hard plastic underbelly,
a pedal, a cryptic clock, those buttons
that don't ever be pressed;
It's trapezoidal, boxed
and bread happens to be put in it.

When kicked down she doesn't open,
like a bin or reactive gob,
she holds between her coils —
them overzealous pasteful hairs
— those granted, and in the
folly of custom she beams a smile
so hopeful and live — and prolonged
— that the yeasty bricks are put
in a surfry.

Its burnt bridges encumbered,
specks dropped between the bars
She grows postcocious at the stock
in a jut of shame and direct damn —
her propodium howling at once back
— the crumbled pan is superlimated,
sensorarily gawked, then
berrated.



	I agree you said you said
Right! I can say alot about
taking words from pools
of blatter and guessing what next
comes next
I plagerise what I hear and
don't source in debate
and I misjudge simple prompts
I never speak on another
with conscience but knowing
staff can alude me
I hope this answers you,
,Jazz



	J
	L
	L
example is the entrant of Hope and brings
grey mat and begins to prasad
Similarly, Athy doth Car trade vagally that
يدعو إلى التشكيك
White Seal,
grana,
and have dread, thy
My wilds spring!. deals parity Shakopane



	Secret Horses
Did I misquote that line
months ago
when huddling for warmth?
Or was it I got that guy
mixed up, his
book titles wrong
as you choose to let my lies slip you?
Not interested in Žižek's thoughts
towards — no no, next
to us self — were we not?
						conversation?
Sure we call it that



	Some have favourite numbers
It's a synco song you haven't heard.
A tokened shelf the corner of your desk you know it has
the potential to bring remiss; That you hadn't coffeed your friends to miss.
Your closed-eye bullet points, a stay from bastard youth.
Don't listen in English you, don't deep there.

Melancholy: discomfort with an Exemption and an Army.
That's how you had it, in your tone.
And it had you found fallen many a time.
She hears you get up dust-filled.
"In nature, nothing moves backwards" outs you.
It's not at your lips.

It was her elevated rest, and Lumbar's memory
for her eye-to-eye list. That makes
you wish you could fall your lungs tango but you're up now and you. . .
"Step back, you won't have a thing lost, naturally".
It had taken arms.

Hear, latch, focus directly, she holds her breath for you to transpire.
Shake, tremor, discombobulate: day by vertebrae.



	Wire left idle have infinite arrangements of tanglement and only an arrangement of not!
Hey, let's not get our (hind)sight twisted,
our previous attempts at netting look
like a hairball, rather than a crosshatch.
Let's not ruminate on that.
Right, their collages of other things
each blur and feels casino,
a tactile jingle in your retna.
The secrets to the fabric: as quick welcomed as
wandered.
So, show each string
layed out and sorted in sequential order,
arranged by the length (of a piece of string).
Upon such do you get it, am i recuperated over credit?
Yet, there's good news, I must admit.
Even good news starts by easily pulled rope
seeing as it (un)winds is just
so important (to be (un)wound).
Just, blinkenly latch and delatch,
the assertive aesthetic seemingly dominant
memetic kind urk me, I can't reconsile.
Any semblence and resonance with sight
signals alarm bells. As quick warned as
wrung, the false is known.
What am I saying? Am I out of string?
No, obviousl- I mean, I can assure that I aren't.
Regardless: (un)stitched shirts don't amuse me,
(fish)nets aren't my strongsuit.

Bogo sort completed decades before predicted;
I've every length and hue (in order), there's no need to pull.



	why I won't repeat myself nor exempt repeats for You
has impossible weight my sake
for the strata of ore that births
pepperoni slices chest matte cake
unwithered stock reflected herds

each pinely thorn I duly pick
resists my every itemed scorn
my index list feels the flick
Your caress towards rosey corn

so with bundles of sticks I fashion
rugged scoffolds dryly logged
I attempt to assemble a pious bin
explaining where or why I'm dogged

a forever influx of uncounted
prized bodies by the sack
chiselled ham flatly bed
soles sharp air digested back


	HACKNEII
They rediscovered a lot nascent in the epoch — post
Bread-Era. There strewn fanatic visual-phonic tech
With no secret behind it. They say it was immobilised
Pedantic, pompless; it was disastered by a council.

This manifest is out best naked site of the stale panache
Dated to broke-pre-preserved.
It was hacked by a stagnant of Tyrconnell,
Fulcrum floating under anthropic noise in the core of Saxon's dust,
Bogged modern in cement — a catacombal cast.

No gun-smoke. Exoterica satis,
Sensationed strata, story moles, there's no dust-body in there.
Period accurate, sometimes, the taxidermy dries an interpassive suit.
Blemished asemic stone — with no secret and no myth.
Born from no exception.

The concrete got it wrong reading with me; wearing a
Subdue, the Vesuvianite expanse thought. There's a Freudian,
He goes: A reluctant city clawed from — as they say it was — staying still.
I pump: This be their pumice preserve?
I've been nudged peculiar — a time when all we did was dig.

They got a lot chiselling the concrete; can't escape our viral canals,
It doesn’t curate an infinite high.