Fairy Love I

A fairy was lacing itself into a sugar dress when he heard the hum of Lense. The smile that spread across his face could cover many cakes. He quickly slipped out of the dress and hung it in the dark so no one's eyes would tell their mouths. "Greetings my love, how are you this day" he said, while extending a bent arm (90 degree arm). Lense smiled as well and wrapped her arm about his. "How's your afternoon Thomas"? Thomas was munching on a scone at this point, as he had been so immersed in dress making he had forgotten to eat. "I am so well, I have constantly thinking about attending the honey making contest later." "Haha yes I'm mega excited for it. I made one this year with lavender and rosemary, then asked some cocoa beans for extract that will swirl in tenderly" Lense singsonged into his ear, bursting with happiness, not much made her more happy than cooking, Lense really wanted to find that something so he could excite her as much himself.

"Shall we head out early to see if they're doing any entertainment before it all goes down", suggested Thomas. "Only if we can stop off for some sorbet, and they have to have cherry or we're going to the forest and the ice box to make our own." "I'll be leaving you if it comes to that". They flew out, holding hands out the door, Lense's wing flapping in pace beneath Thomas's.

The Feign of Cataraski

Cataraski was a mighty old bloke
with mighty old hands

A often times he moved them to bossoms
making females push him to mud
Yet Mr Cataraski was just acting out
For you see the other monkeys
Oh the other monkeys
They were not to true
They feigned being lovely
Bringing sweets and hard whiskey
Until they realized his need to be clean

Oh Mr Cataraski if only they knew
the symptoms in mud make you flictoo

You haven't heard of fictoo?
How crazy of your bazoo

For you see dearest maiden or are you a gent?
There is no popsicle that can cure Cataraski's lopicle

There is no bar of chocolate to stop his zhocoloate
For you see dearest gentmaiden he is but a babboon

It reminds him too much of the twosies the other babboons toss at his face
He spends his days cleaning it away

So every time the other monkeys pick on him by throwing him into mud
So now every time they make him brown he throws wet wipes at their hair and when
they try to take them off
they clean themselves

Now to you this may not sound like much revenge
But it was all Cataraski needed to dance in life

Detente Dragon Rave

The dragons raved to http://www.omnimusic.com/music_search/cd.php?c=czoyOiIxNSI7&lib=7 (play this)



Underground they begin
Sputtering sparks
Roaring breaths
The fire from bark 
                        


Begging for meth
Lifting to the air
clashing to the floor
Jumping and thrusting
Filling the room with majestic pee


Hypnotic veins merging to beats


Shivering


Craving


Releasing
         
             
                        Hitting drums with fluffed up sticks




                 Paint flying up into streams




Wild WIld Abandon making their screams
Lights jumping their craves
Drugs tossing through pointed teeth
Foam spilling hot to the floor
Eyes electrified  
         flashing spectrum
Motors lighting the streets
                Inwardly sucked away to the beat
Necks swirling
  Blue furred glistening


Black scales touching




Ecstasy feeling up mighty wings
Filling veins with pleasured
pressure

Existing in a Hammer

 I'm losing myself in this place of practicality where things don't bend at being licked and hairs don't freeze upon a glance

where there is no mercy but in a hammer

and no lies but in lips

all residing

stand and make your appeal

we hear no flimsy whimsy tales

of how our existence is a skin juicing fever

we hear your words in just this world

we judge upon not what you thought but the action your body enacted

your body shows us your mind

lock lock key key

the fancy can only reside in your head

so let's lock the body away

Video to Dragonfly Spit Mates

Soooooo I decided it should be outside
You can even pretend their dragonflies

Peacock Zugzwang

Each feather curls up
Stretching from its core
Erect with eyes glaring
They rustle at the red
At seven they release
Beaks lift at tiny wings
The children do inward jumping jacks
Then spread them still on the peacocks bodice
Laughing bubbles 
Cooing as cats
At flight they fall and all squish color

Bloody Empty Twirling Veins

We all squelch out and raise out blooded wings

we tell our tale of four misdeeds

we once held true our love for fight: blood, revenge, malice

Then we fell into hands
hands that could wring the world with us

these hands were fierce
they could hold booming forces and intricate designs
they made for us the hatred
seethed into fate

with gauche we made the first strike
and with practice they bled in our hands

The grass went plashy with innards leaking out
blype like confetti against the ground

with alacrity we continue, thirsty for the feed
the tightening of veins in fear
only to release those of our foes

The smell of them rotting makes us sick
but we stand there
we breathe it in until the air goes balmy

Second we lick it up

Third we dance with the empty veins

Fourth we tell you