The Spoonbill Generator

Further from the Beatiful Foot

The rate of completion increases [TG]

My reputation's in pieces [P]

The machine grinds on... [nomi]

The smooth syncopation relaxes [TG]

The boredom of my nieces [The Agent Apsley]

With sound of skins and saxes [TG]

The hummmmmmm of battle axes [nomi]

Is to me the root of praxis [The Agent Apsley]

The thrill is gone... [Grayman]

Long gone. [nomi]

The rate of elation displeases [The Agent Apsley]

As my excentric marine buddy sneezes, [Stacy]

The pursuit grows cold... [Grayman]

The soft susurration untenses [TG]

The green suit dyes old [a.haw]

Wherein lies the chill of the senses [Grayman]

And the nub of past tenses [The Agent Apsley]

When yesterday's offences [Grayman]

Are paid in gold [P]

The rate of dispersion distresses [The Agent Apsley]

Those who with wild guesses [Grayman]

Should dance in lemon dresses [A.HAW]

Until the moon grows cold [The Agent Apsley]

When the nebulous phantasm [Grayman]

Is sure to cause nifty orgasm, [Stacy]

But blood runs cold and the heart stops short [LaRue]

Or so I was taught [TG]

In London old [The Agent Apsley]

The tales of squalor abounded [TG]

The cry of the beggar resounded [Grayman]

Seeking after gold [The Agent Apsley]

The squealing of rusty hinges [Grayman]

Makes a tower of my whinges [The Agent Apsley]

But still I'm cold [TG]

Stone cold [Grayman]

Like Tiresias of old [The Agent Apsley]

The king of hearts is astounded! [Stacy]

His anger unbounded! [nomi]

The tale as yet untold [Grayman]

By sages or by singers [The Agent Apsley]

Or wild bell ringers [nomi]

Who eschew the common fold [Grayman]


Contributors: TG, P, nomi, The Agent Apsley, Grayman, Stacy, a.haw, A.HAW, LaRue, Anon..
Poem finished: 18th May 1999.