Tuesday, June 20, 2017

See The Slide? Pipe.Or.Guns Amplified. google will you please deliver this to James Blunt proper? Thank you in advance, Karen A. Placek April 17, 2017

Does not intuitive light tease out the structural lyrics as comb to string of harp on Felt of bell,
is the dynamic of a flutist the narrative in disguise a tunnel of soaring a spelling of drum,
should the vent on volcanic ash molt to earth as a butterfly to flight,
shall the dip to ink and quill to feather beak the horn of a ripe corn at shallow graved,
did the shadow discuss to Moon a Sun in dialing details as the tree to Forest raised?

As the music is in the deep narrow of a limited shore of sand to torque,
did the verse spell a number of form at the shoulders of dinner to fair,
in circle off the square is the math only the Fly?

Wings of measure in an inch,
the wood on the peak of that glacier that slide to ocean in a blue designed,
much to the bog that suffers Blunt in an ink of climb,
shipping only the age of apathetic agony inside his hymn of liter.

The grasp for humanity is that spiral of deception as he is by procession,
in that is this the words to meld the forge to his flame of comprehension?,
nigh the nor to the Viking on this hammering of only an,
in equator the Elephant trumpets a quiet parade,
on squirrel the bee's are in harbor to scene the battalion of long listed,
in silents is the crocodile to chatter of the humming birds.

Across the Great Space of the Milky Way it is reality,
each Dark Lord in speak detailing this ground as entry torque of that wheel in the Sky,
a cloud gazed to storm on the dimmer twilight of a Star,
I spoke of the bleeding,
as that was the human pouring down with the flight to up the pinch.

No salt on that was this peppering of triangle to solar flares,
as the stretch makes to note it is the ripe Vine on the grapes of Wrapping,
as the peel of an orange ripened to tea,
as the jam made ready the jelly,
it is the most of how a Twin Flame quits the type-Writer of saying Good bye to a form.

As this World did not believe in Plato yet tangles the teasing of Hymn to Proverb a book,
this reminds my d.n.a. to value the blood with my heart's pulse in vein,
my Feat.

Trips to gather?,
journals to collect?,

This is the steady on an address that made reception know of the future turns,
no more shall I bravo to a dead waiter of serving cold liver,
the pate of such has left only crackers with chippy rum to bellow milk curdles,
sugar grained to confuse the sands beach,
it is true navigation of his wave,
he failed once in the Times of Age of wreck on'd that beacon of know light House.

May these wordings caste him to Wares of his beginning travels,
may his wince be the Wine of his gravel,
might the wake of blinking tear his cheeks to find more than just a lined.

To that is the dear bed Fellow,
shy to you for the failure and pleading that your short cantor fickle`d,
I am from more than the blame of a game to B.D.S.M. your Ass of burro to gee Dust,
might the ashes be of the fire that you have smothered with your tack,
it is the saddle that cinch that did not fit my kind,
as I am of the bricks and mortally bound I vista you this slighting,
taste the vernacular of this base,
dip your tongue to the river of only this virtue,
as the crevace is the brisk whip that I would staple your milking of life to planet earth.

You have disappointed the Millenia with your bench style lips,
you have a shortening in your belly by stomach of rice by husking the wheats sway in Wind,
each chore to step on this earth has broadened only you in obvious,
may your luck be with the sky speak,
shall your voice echo than the tune shipping is the Mountain topped,
dark hours for your minute timer,
cheaping the rate to dim switching and spirals,
may luck counter this so you may harsh your bitter lisp to bog,
may this sunken craft bark your Teak and brass that Copper bought tum.

Written by me, Karen A. Placek on April 17th, 2017