The Spoonbill Generator

The gas oven sings a sweet song to my leadened seratonin [chaise]

As the crippled psychosis penetrates thought at lightning speed [Apsley]

Monoxide, lift this veil and pass me through with ne'er a groanin' [asdf]

That I might be sifted and found wanting as some hated weed [Apsley]

And if you've never sifted weeds or mixed a metaphor [F]

Then take the bull by the hand which feeds it humble pie [chaise]

And lead it to the promised land - it's what clichés are for [Beefy ]

In this dear little fable replete with the burgeoning sky [Apsley]

The ceiling fan hums a refrain to my particoloured curtain [Beefy ]

As I dash it down with my hook again and head off for the coast [Apsley]

Would there were one thing in this life of which I could be certain [Beefy ]

Too timid yet to cook my own goose, I'll settle for a roast [Grayman]