Tuesday, December 27, 2005

stupid flim flam pome, bloody thing!

lol! Does anyone else ever have words just completely take over and run off by themselves?

Chiaroscuro, you are mind mettle
and iron to the core. Slide free
and skoosh behind the eight ball.

The duck soup has canary segments
so grab a cup of java, snap a cap,
and give me your mazuma.

Steal a Chicago overcoat, grab
the getaway sticks, and
we'll call in the ringers with vigorish.

The nippers are hungry,
their eyes have bees swarming,
danger signs. Wrap them some jam
in orphan papers and whisk them
away to Samarkand.

Toe tap with dazzle,
lip smack and frazzle,
the honey,
the orange,
the speak-easy bourbon-mix cocktail.

We're flapping for freedom,
these crazed-paving days
in a gangster's bloody, last stand, haze.

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