* <<F7N.0090>>

Enter, hackneyed wisdom.  
Light your toy jewels well 
  and frame them artfully.  
Get up the lamps hot 
To dazzle with glitter; 
Flare away, trite!  
And "gems!", they will cry.

Hur, hur, rumbles cavernous bone-sack, 
aching at the dry blown in through its love hole.  
(The plug, shriveled up, fell out.)  
So hur, it rumbles, in lightless humour, 
wadding-up whatever motes shake loose.  
A soft-plug with that?!  O, sad sack,
A brave labour futile indeed.

--
Excerpted from:

PUBLIC NOTES (F)
http://alph.laemeur.com/txt/PUBNOTES-F
©2015 Adam C. Moore (LÆMEUR) <adam@laemeur.com>