bichoose (bichoose) wrote,
bichoose
bichoose

Tuesday 28th November 2006.

Today is woz,a tizwoz,of thoughts clapping through the leaves that are green,magnificent spiders hang before my eyes clouds from pewter rainbows pour across the pond, duck fish swim,in shallow waters, two who i cannot make out remain in the shadows.The moon softens green cheese and the cow jumping over the moon is told in tales by fires,thespians raise there rose glimmered glasses the fondant dew climps across the withered hand, befuddled the day indeed has begun;green wellies tread bogland or perhaps not, on this great day when life for one began some dark intrepid day,no doubt to the same cliche of then the smacked bum, rubber fingers in the mouth to see if such lungs would be kind as the pebbles in the path slithered beneath the crusted foot fall of the forlorn hope,such brave men hold aloft the chalice..whom does such a thing belong to,perhaps some goddess born of red hair and crimson tide,perhaps the harp plays the magicans birthday,the faces in the pool splash tiny waves in green and red,the colours mix as one juice from such forbidden fruit,is brought in the sunlight to the lips strangely pink the cascade of words flip and trip down tall stems cool chardonnay is celebrated for mistress who know's the past clock of sadness but now has captured some rays,she hides in the eternal sunflower path streaked in the lure of simple toes bare on grass and slips the second hand beneath time for one brief period,enough to see beyond the shadows and tinkling glasses are once more raised to celebrate..the spoon caught in the tree gently falls on vinyl screeches and behold Alted Images..dance to the beat of Happy Birthday.
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