Tuesday, 22 April 2014

22/04/2014 - INVEST IN THE SHOP


Invest in the shop with stores and a few hat collections for good measure. Think on your mistakes as my friend and help out with boardroom planning and colourful delusions of reading and sexualised piano concertos. The greasy windows are stuck on replay on the back of a rocking horse that dips in unintended glossaries just to say aggressive morning prayers.

Do you think I should tangle it? Am I here as a professional peep and you just can’t beat a professional for peeping, especially when you’re more than a block away in the right hand. It’s impossible for disheartening to put a dint in appreciable belief, it is mutated and moves for one thing. You can do better than that, you mischievous spender, you can twerk without a comely uniform and mind that the spinning stops with the tombola.

No way to belie, no way to wake up Sleeping Beauty with eggs and bacon that hurts in passing keeling over with cuboid fluency. The congenital, primordial thermodynamics of signing magic into package paper so that the just can be trusted with cure-alls. Holy cow, the sparkles and the blooper bags! Honduras! Brrring the shameless mantelpiece forth and let it be judged by puppets in it to win it.

The bubbles are symptomatic of a fever that does the dance without heirs or looms or spaceships that translate into kites. Can you be any sweeter? With the liquid tabs? As of now the intensity is all for brow-beating concentration, for narrowing focus on an elderly flautist with horrendous values of racial learnedness. And they all want a peace of the piece while the action settles down for its afternoon nap.

Who hit snooze in a trite manner? Can buttons become Ghurkhas and for how long? The mind is adventurous because we could handle life so well if it weren’t for all the interconnected deviousness of formulated spirit. As of the duty, the politicians take the iamb for a plaintive couplet and in doing so leave its better legs by the roadside for all the preachers to remark on.

Beggars at the feast along with the ghost according to elite Parisian upper crust: master the law abiding brokers. We’re the ones who alter the land, we’re barricaded in by blown prosperity. After so long who would even doubt that the books are getting shorter because the novel is abdicating from its papal authority out of some deathly blessing to the rest of the concubines. It’s too soon to ever say OBEY to the page master and his milky ilk. Your father wouldn’t accept such travesties as his bosom creation, let alone grieve the holes in sponges of mercurial talent. TAKE ME TO SALVATION NOW THAT THELOVE IS WELL REMEMBERED BY UNSPOKEN PHILANTHROPISTS WHO’VE SEEN THE FACE OF GOD AND HIS LORDYLORDYLORDY CLIMBING FRAME, THE ONE WITH WRETCHED LIGHT-UP FEATURES. WALK BEHIND THE SWORD AS IF IT WERE A GUN WITH A COLD BARREL FILLED WITH IMAGO FISH BEARING SCISSORS TO FAROFF LOCATIONS WHERE DISTANT DRUMS ARE JOINING CONSTANTLY.

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