Through the cuts of snares, nothing to rest till the evening swallows, these counterband thoughts, so wicked and hollow, that they make my heart full of pulse and out they go and strums the kingdom of never coming down boost, never to be me

so chased by gates that alter the heights, and by memories that sweep, or of a different time, whichever came first, only I was speeding against the horns o...

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I'm rushing below the firmament in a submarine
Pulled up by balloons 
Rocket thrusters won't work in a vacuum
The torrid plasma liquid washes over the viewing screen
And the Hubble telescope cannot anywhere be seen
This periscope doesn't recognise the space handed to us it seems..

Am I floating beneath the epidermis of a prison planet scheme
I fear this is way beyond my theosophical steam
...

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A giraffe fell from a spaceship

For more nonsense poetry visit www.georgestanworth.com

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