Please lead me down
your delectable quaint garden path
Would rather be
wheedled by your twinkling Amaryllis
Than frig with a mind
that is hell bound on obliqueness
Your burgeoning pompons
they instill fanciful sweetness
Just yesterday morning
my soul rotted in despondency
Gaffing some trite
narration on the histology of zombie cruor
Why, why inject our
angelic minds with incorporeal dread
Coaxes enjoining the
hardscrabble reality of the Urban Dead
Romp to the left
through that field of Lilies unfettered by yarn
And raspberries sweet
as the succulence of 'double a batteries'
On a twisty path far
astray from voodoo's reanimated cadaver
Holding hands to marvel
at yon melons fringed with lavender
Mercy me, my heart's in
my throat, it must be the Orchids
That fragrance so sweet
seems mine eyes burst forth with fire
Oh all is forsaken mine
i-pad has croaked, oh yen has it's wrath
Shucks be to lechery
slithering down your ambrosial path
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