Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Innerspace of a Pincushion

Time whispers on the littlest Pincushion "That Henry is ‘Him’"…
One Needle jauntily walks away
On springy steps savouring every ounce of their Poems.
Desmond's Electromagnetic anomaly makes pins sway
The streets and spills through sinew and a bleeding heart,
Sorrow walks the jungle whilst Jack is an idiot
Cutting through lands unforgiving
Puffed up trying to access the Innerspace of a Pincushion
To the same spot never the same background
When random worlds take hold of the text
Hidden from the sight of God
Lost it seeps through me, now and next in the land of Nod

A Poechemitical Opus inspired by the mighty poetry of Pincushion by The Cloned Corpse of Marcus Tal


Blogger Pincushion said...

I am touched,
I am honoured,
I am speechless!
Nobody has ever written a poem for me or about me before...

Thank you Oh Lord of Cloned-Corpse-of-Marcus-Tal,
Thank you

Blogger the cloned corpse of marcus tal said...

Dear Pincushion

You are most welcome

Kind Regards

Blogger Inkblot said...

interesting style!

Anonymous John Locke said...

Stop spoiling Lost you fiends!

Anonymous Warmaster Monsanto of the Dilgar Imperium said...

What is Lost?

Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

we all bow down in front of the glorious image of goddess glory that is pincushion. surely the sexiest nymph on the blog?

Blogger African Mudskipper said...

Well Said Cocaine Coconut Committed One


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