writing wrongs

tried between two faces
tantamount within
fried onion bide
ocean lines wide
only to slide through ocean's bliss
everyone in fleese
once a century wash back knees
a temple in its mist
southward ghetto tries as oceans moor
wakes up cotton balls
snorage lids puff untoward tongs
others write wrongs
lancing wombles helps the bleed
whilst lit horizons lace
cannibals in thimbles
water zoos for something to do
it wasn't of, just lasso
there isn't much to do
gathering waters move on
time for pudding. the gas to lit
stew tomatoes in lace lit lips
contraband. there wasn't much host
just creamcicles in lime lit bottles
lederhosen did not exist
stewards in leather bottoms pumpkin away
stretched but not unkind though the hips were divine
not enough for snoring to commence
any line of pots would do
the lids popped and the lines engraved
didn't matter as it opened the mind
gravel snuffed in orange blossoms
a snare of sleep
too much wine in the coffee
distaste for staph infection
nothing for the cleaner
scrubbing inward, screaming out
wash your vegetables, the cleaners off, the lassoes undone
reading untoward, a cowsnip in catsup begun
caustic as catnip fribbled unwise
the signs set up in cannibal
nothing to do but try
it's how all weapons know
and how becomes why


denis streeter   10/8/17