The Spoonbill Generator

Unchained Malady

Into emporia crammed with grime,       [Apsley ]

We burst in search of jewels       [olaf ]

And, had we but an ounce more time,       [Apsley ]

And, were we not such fools,       [olaf ]

Our passage to a life of crime       [Chevalier ]

Would slacken as the mule's       [Apsley ]

Intrinsic merit wanes       [olaf ]

Had we but thought to have a plan       [Chevalier ]

Or quickly case the joint       [olaf ]

And, had we eaten up less flan,       [Apsley ]

There might have been some point       [olaf ]

In passing from a flat écran       [Apsley ]

Which hierophants anoint       [olaf ]

WIth shavings from their brains       [Apsley ]

But no, like fools, we rushed inside       [Chevalier ]

And gobbled up the dust       [Apsley ]

Not angels, but a bartered bride       [olaf ]

Who faintly smells of must       [Chevalier ]

And what the Volga barges hide -       [Apsley ]

Beneath that tarmac crust       [olaf ]

The dust dissembled, in our bowels,       [Apsley ]

The pellets, in our nest       [olaf ]

We foraged for some snowy owls       [Apsley ]

By which the Pope was blessed       [olaf ]

Before, besmirched by wash-room towels,       [Apsley ]

He took his Holy Rest       [Chevalier ]

Which is to say ...       [olaf ]

Those adventurous, in the sack,       [Apsley ]

Need to watch their back       [loaf ]

Contributors: Apsley, olaf, Chevalier, loaf.
Poem finished: 22nd January 2007 by Apsley.