Monday, June 16, 2008

Skip this meaningless ramble

Seven hugger-muggers beat down the door of my flat on Penrith and stole my floor.
I owed it to the guvnor. I owed it to my son. I owed it to the Winny Will that lives under the gun.
Some might call it providence. Some might call it fate. Some might call it exercise but not for neonates.
There is clearly no clear message here, no code morse or runic, but if you look real close enough you just might find the tunic
that you thought you lost on Sunday and you looked for it in vain. It lingered in the shower stall and plugged the shower drain.
It hovered in the corner and wandered down the stair. It flew around the garbage bin and vanished in thin air.
In good we trust to conquer and in evil trust no one. If there be altogether good then I be number one.
I get a sense of senselessness, a poignant purposelessness. Try saying that when half-asleep. You'll end up a real mess.
I guess what I am trying to say, to enunciate forthwith, to avoid the beating round the bush and get straight to the pith
is that life is awful complicate (you may notice not the 'd') and randomness is so much simp (less 'l', 'e', 'r' and 'p').
There is no 'p' in 'simpler', this is gibberish it's true, but, "Gibber is as gibber does" is what I'll say to you.
The king is in his counting house counting out his money, The maid is in the garden eating bread and honey. This whole verse is so much worse than verse that is not funny.
Green eggs, eggs and ham, ham and eggs green eggs. The morale of this story is that morales have no legs.
Random, rare and thoughtfulness
Beauty rich and reaped.
All bow down before the crown
and in denial creaped.
In as much as matters
In as much as cares.
In as much as such and such and sudden unawares.
Spider Susy wefted web and loom'd a fabric stick
When all the children went to bed she made them all of sick.
The pauper prince has come of age and tootled all with vigour
the end of us has come at last with giggle and a snigger.
Hath thou had hated half his health how Harlan hated Heath.
I swim in blue seas happily and search the bed beneath.
This randomness must surely end, this senseless rant must fail, if life and limb and liberty will any chance prevail.
Here endeth the.

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