As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.

 

Winner dust back beat of the funsed up charges

The sentimental owl with a quiver for the artful harness

And partaking in choruses that weren’t quite

Tuned right the spiteful industry

Of a news light and the neon temperaments

The indulges incrediblelemments 

The starting block pistol of the ultimate dint

The port of no call and the recalled stints

 

The shorter stacked furnaces on portion for the delivery

The frightful admittance of a new found devilry

The patience in question sometimes portrays the rivals

Oh what a world oh when the cymbal stifles

And here about the westward winds and the inuits tricks

They all talked roug till they all got ticked

So no points for the numbness who gunned ruts ridiculous

 

Some place for the artist and the wicked

So patiently observe there are no dutiful offerings

Had your head bowed on the stuffed up offolopoous

So forget the indescrepancies and the nuanced daily dills

Pluck up the puckered stunts and sea sup some quills

You got your bookshops and your casual swagger

The way you paint in a rightful manner

Slamshackled bakery they no know bounds

Some part of deciverous

Got the awful sounds down

 

So questionable is this signal and so unrestful have me here

Part by the adder on the canal by piers

And so set stilly with the over gone times

I lost track when the aye aye staled