Clash with me, stand tall against the Titan of temporal bliss!
There is not more in a passage of kissing than is written on your fits.
The hour is done and movie will begin in soon after travelling
And when the queuing is over there will be time for canoodling.
Can you not see?! The Ergo of the ages and how her therefore
Is my unread spoilt builder-man and not Spiderman movie magazine pages.
This is not good enough for me and it is better for them they are that,
For the comedian to have massaged the messages from the gangster
When their husbands and wives club spilled over: Rat a Tat Tat.
Splat! Against the wall. Like a curtain call on the trailers
This park that I am zoned off in is trash and the Asian can ride along too.
Count him luck and fortune that his Deva hits the brick too soon
So that I am with his Devi keeping it tight all night long,
After my singing and song celestial as the credits courage me closed business.
Where is the hissing and boos, from the crowds that draw down on the Blues
And Porgy and Bess in the messing, of the youth who won’t know Debra Messing?
Can’t they dance like Gregory Hines and don’t they know their lyrics will be fine
As they march to the sound of steeple chase and chain gang drum
To the nautical map of all that mind mapping, programming and cum.
Come again and see a film twice – at least walk past me if you think my adverts are nice,
And tell your friends where the best prices are kept, when the imagination is where your nostalgia is slept and wept.
I have not got, I will not have, you could not be, there is no time:
What is the cause if it is not soot and England’s grime –
Old casual man Snoopy and the declaration of independent stars
Trekking across the universe looking for more fortunate housing
Than the barren carcass that carried your dreams to where possibility cried where.
How could that be, why is this so and what is in it for me was Dukka
When the cab ride home was also some old ladies lost probability of carriage and fare
Game at the hold all of Newspaper review for the Tribune in you
And the hope that you will be found by the sound of the call for your soul.
So all is fair in love and war, when you see it, pay twice and don’t let the bad curtain fall.
The message is for us and the mountain was fair to remove
If he looked at it twice then forgive him for his own remorse:
The lawns from Tibet renew Llamas as stout as whines from the land of Inspector Morse.