Drakenoorp! the high-high bonny
Betsy laid her sad chains around the haus frau's knecht
"Boddie, Boddie," she screeched
above the klangourand hystamerimn of the globluer'n
klooster of that awfruel baalshrub of greentubulin
like a wigglin grey weirdwig of aardvarq toongs
"The boddie.."
and her forehead stwisted inints camisouls
amphibious tea follies flopping on the porcelain banks
good little cookies with swee'gill and cashew petty lace
"Woords are grotesques, Loord Drakenoorp!"
"Aye, that's a good Besty.." "Now chew yer way into the klangourand
hystamerimn of that awfruel baalshrub of greentubulin
like a wigglin grey weirdwig of aardvarq toongs"
"Boddie, Boddie," she screeched
[lifting her tiny little 'pinky'] [lifting it, over and over again, for no reason, for the reason of no]
Her Betsy skin was a blue a-ah metal mudcrab
a relication of replicating blue metallic mudcrabs
like a table on wheels of slithering blue metallic mudcrabs
and Betsy strapped to the top like a suckling pig glutted by horn headed pygmies of pillow p-lavra
"Palavra, Palavra," the lava pygmeels squalled.
Now Loord Drakenoorp! yodels into his hand to build an instrument.. a choral zipperflaesh maker
and makes a wiggly tonguey zipper all along her vidya centerzonnie
oUT iT cOMES!
the RACHETING STARFISH MASK!
what a bonny thing has beetsy in her goots!
"Boddie, Boddie," screeched BEtsy!
"Woords are grotesques, Loord Drakenoorp!"
screeched BEtsy!
"Aye, that's a good Besty, now raise yoor little finger
like I taught You. Surgere e, oftain knots the now salver
versitront trout trow. Pitch ney, les pensers nouveaux are
breaking out of the G. Gigue gomihead's coxxoon
(what florrid metamorphic jade!) of their vers antiques!
What molten skeletons of potential! Pallas Athena, like a
worm scaled in gorgoneion cannot rival your matchless
gurbuggly eloquency, the colour of yer isopod is replete
with di-wi-ja hannahanna. As you step like a sunbeam into
this room of chariot tablets, dehitch your forq and spondyl
earrings, and hark! the barks are loing upon the lariat riverune.."
En Randonee an Audients h'memeber:
"See these domesticated fireflies inside my synthetic gob nodules,
the nose and mouth are mixed up into one, like a gooey hand-puppet
for all five fingers.. That's what pudding is like to a pub Mer.."
