Some humor to lighten up the place a little
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Oh how!!!
Fun !!!!
de mental !!!
A merging marriage of primordial opposites !!!
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Once in the dear dead days beyond recall.
When on the world the mists began to fall,
Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng
Low to our hearts love sang an old sweet song
And in the dusk where fell the firelight gleam
Softly it wove itself into our dream
Just a song at twilight
When the lights are low,
And the flickering shadows
Softly come and go
Though the heart be weary,
Sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes love’s old song
Comes love’s old sweet song.”Happy Bloomsday !!!
I was on the road for Bloomsday, Robert (first overnight excursion in the age of Covid – thank goddess for that vaccine!). Good to see you here, though – it’s been far too long since you’ve haunted these virtual halls . . .
🙂Oh the foibles of Social Medea. !!! The dynamite at the posts pillars of civilization !!! That betrays explodes the social contract and construct. What Phoenix shall rise from the ashes rubble rabble babble ???
“Wry mouth” and “Foolhardy.”
But will only post one take of the first and ask apologies for inspiration in following post.
With many apologies to “Jimmy the Joyous,” for this awkwardly rhymed and shaped “borrow!” And with all intended respect to “Wry Mouth.”
“Penning Around Like Waking Up Finn”
“Wry Mouth,” writ, wrote, rit to treescend wordsback time storied forthward mono-mythightily and Jestory-storily…
co-elective ( ladders not with Overstanding railing against the rung walls) in the wide world of bell leafs jour-knees befall to all individuall-elates. the blissfull bite and kiss fallowed with the berried sea-ds of rapturity and a ware of the land ness, with its greet mask of tomes which are watched by mr and mrs hE-ro, who face them 1000 times daily, and de-vine their in-fine-i-tude,
meter-folklorically, speak-easing.
but bewoof, beweave, be wary of mr con crete, who jest will never get it. or make syn critic the cretic. lady go dess wants her say. in the realm, ream, rhyme of play.
and so we uni-ver-sail-lee sail as one as the sy key-gulls cry in joyce over the wakes we have awoken in their deeper waters. we all have our parcivals to play.
and for my parcival (th) i am grailful!
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