Plight quite right

When indifference
Must cuss’d’ly carry the day
Spend-thrift heart’s clearance

Hahaha echoes laughter of different time’s ghosts. Sober number blink blink blink like a bank’s free phone balance robo teller. The creak of a clasp across a chord change on the radio guitar serenading nobody on the dance floor. The fans blow comfort’s breeze but it’s too hot and the fans too weak to effect change. Dali’s clocks melt as time seems molten…. and No ocean’s surf softly crashes this all back to solid earth. It’s not yet a carnival coming with fall’s harvest joy.

It’s just peachy! The Bud Wiser just came across the apostle Paul… Masson peach. The weeks call to table top glories sees leftovers and no texts confirming time. Chicken bone ash becomes not the forever forward if an earth balancing technology with truth of it’s not free costs… into chicken jerky. Bwok! Bwok! To serous thought. Just pounce with them playground names. Rest t’ween tugs on the canned boiler maker caught catch as catch can. Green chili could be a dream. There are other sunrises. The truth of numbers blink blink blink like a bank’s robo-phone prankin’ truths out about hey sucker this is your life. Should I turn on the disco ball? I mean the radio still serenades no one on the dance floor. The fans still try. Dali’s clocks are still baby talk’s goo! Goo! Even peaches are at heart the pits. Which if ground fine make an expensive exfoliant! To scrub away yesterday’s…. to be fresh faced today. Peachy.

Once I remembered cyanide was all peach pits contained. Perspective says it’s a lot of just hard enough to scrub yesterday’s away… oh stop it! I don’t mean permanently!!! I mean yay peach scrub from the bathe that butt! at da mall! The radio died. Some cars drone by. The fans still fail yet they try. Dog days of summer – upon the sun’s anvil hammer each blow rung with and echoing cry.

Deja vu! Laughing
Each tickling ha ha ha har!
Yesterday’s dancing

Carpenters- only yesterday – which oddly isn’t the one I went searching for but fuck it it’s a nice deep cut tune 😉 but not like this next chicago’s But it could have been! Yesterday once more ( 😉 )

Chicago – old days

By Starman Jones

Everything and Nothing interests me. I cook read, write and even have to clean. I SHOULD NOTE: I'm 40 something.

4 replies on “Plight quite right”

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