Rapid

This piece is part of my ‘Waterfall of words’ series. I wrote this 3 years ago and its original title is; ‘Poppy Cock’.

I used to write stuff like this with DUP user Skyra when the site was still up. I hope she creates an account here one day since, sadly, I have not been able to reach out to her.

Anyway, I write pieces like this to train myself in the use and cadance of english words.
The idea is; you write down whatever comes to mind and try to make it rhyme.

No stopping, no correcting, no shame. ^^

To me, it is a fun and rewarding way to learn a language.

The result is a mess of words that rarely make sense.

Flourish, entice.
Nourishing lies.

Encouraging dice.
Unlucky disguise.

Murdering cries.
Buried by mice.

Maker’s delight.
Time calls to fight…

Anyway,

I fought a lot to quench my hot and seal the
never lasting plot on severed bods I never
thought I’d own the mud to cover rot and let my
thoughts be better than a never seen redder
pepper shot forever married feathered broads
on parking lots with sagging tits and clever
frauds upon the reign standing bi-polka dotted
liver shots hanging by like river rudds on monday
after-looning shiver spots I kid a lot I kid you not
for every grown man fills a spot on every lone
man’s quiver shot he missed a lot it seems by
just a thought and seems redeemed by glistening
moths on barely dried up christening cloths of
merely flied off chores and green/blue bruised
up spots of dried up blood rot it smells like death
a lot so better not have a taste my god please
let me stop ok some more why not I mean I’d never
thought you lot would have the gut to read this
mess of words lacking punctuation information
dedication and what not for what I ask without
interrogation marked rewarded suffocation styled
word-binged flavoured neighbour talk mocked up
craver stalk.

RGBlue lit potato wedged brew with tomato
sprinkled camel piss soaked in cannabis smoked
cans of fish both bad at this nourishmental
handle this and that forever bitch and bad I
hope I never get the hang of noose related
heart attacks moose related outer backs
trailed off tracks to never crack the nutted butter
biscuit limp like mom and dad in bare backed trailer
trashed sleeping bags aftermaths of iced blue eyed
meth heads on stretcher beds who could forget half
inbred surrogate cattle hags in straddled postures
with milked out freckled racks in Cadillacs?

I don’t.

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