cornerstones of technology grow weary
submerged buffaloes wept sweet tears of tangerines & trifle
they were soggy & water bound
drifting in & out with the tide
too ponderous to step ashore to escape the ocean's embrace
what a sorry sight - what a dreadful plight
the more they wept the deeper the depth
adding thoughtlessly to the mire sobbing buffaloes cried at their own fate
refusing to go down with the ship
they'd paid for a round trip & intended to get it

because that damn Cosby
his brain grew weary of the telly
but he did not
so eventually it devised a plan of escape
as brains are wont to do
waiting until he fell into a deep slumber,
it unhinged his skull & leapt forth
like Prometheus
coiling its spinal cord up like a cowboy's lariat
& piling it upon its head in a topknot
hastening its retreat the brain scurried into the deep night
leaving his bag of bones & gristle to continue without

the nursery was full of aborted ideas
dogs stumble upon sadness
sloths lap up doorstops & ramble into bins
share croppers just plant more seeds of discontent
to rile the ire of nuns whose habits are long formed & nasty
ill tempered when cornered by logic
they'll rend pages from phone books
folding them into confessionals
a Catholic origami of massive scope
they'll cry "Repent!" unto the havens,
sending flocks of heretics into the streets
fleeing repression before it strikes & having struck
the nuns genuflect before the armchair of St Ennui
he whose holy remote is enshrined at the Barrister of the Broken Banister
they then hitch up their tattered skirts, 
wading through rhetoric to find shelter from the storm troopers,
awakened by the racket & eager for a game of hopscotch

oboes, rice bowls and crystal
the griffin filed its nails with yellowed boards pried from the floor of a teetering church
chuckling as the cacti flew overhead, expecting an early frost
at his side his stalwart companion Zeus,
long having retired of the dreary business of deitydom,
calculated their arrival rate
assuming lost time for missionary attacks and squirrel bobbing
"no cactus can resist a good squirrel bobbing," he muttered
the griffin nodded & stretched its wings, 
scanning the street cafe for their waitress
after tipping tea on Zeus
he'd caused snakes to sprout from her head & she'd shied away ever since
"lovely weather for it" it remarked & Zeus went back to his work,
tripping his modern Medusa with a tire iron as she slunk past
they settled their cheque & retreated
leaving the waitress an oboe tip & serpents spitting in her eye
overhead the cacti soared in grey skies

hit rewind on history
stale animal crackers prowl the parameters of the candy dish
hunting for gummi bears without remorse
their fat little jelly legs were too thick
to outrun the crusty cheetahs- fleet of foot,
leaving trails of crumbs in the wake of their chase
shortbread lions render the carcass of a cherry bonbon
while the gentle biscuit elephants
graze amongst the crockery for peanut patties

cruxes carried by gastropods
the poor spend their lifetimes gathering liabilities
albatross however, collect stamps
not ordinary ones of paste & paper
but glorious constructs of bacon  & bronze
towering things strapped in parcels  & crushing postmen
that is what albatross fancy
the more blood on the meat the higher its value
noble birds that they are place great restraint in pieces of pain
it marks a passing of time of life of breath & bread
bread gone hard & stale as no one comes to claim it
the back of the bakery is a graveyard
collecting the skeletal crusts of loaves bygone,
while albatross flap their wings in anticipation of the next monolith 
to drag home & gather dust upon its arrival
they're just like that
their liabilities are limited
bread is boundless

colour me in plaster
a midget voodoo queen of gypsies 
stole babies, chickens & quiche from nearby collectives of nomadic waitresses,
all clutching vainly at bouquets of porcelain hands
rubbing their extremities with baking soda 
in an effort to stay warm in the stench of  decay
while sonorous ficus gather in swarms
glowering over the edge of the towering bureau
hoping to catch the bottom dwellers of the sock drawer unaware,
better to dash down the ramparts
& force the natives to accept bad cheques
so the ficus can buy babies