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.
The adage goes all things grow
The bandages fail to stick
The schticks turn into sticks
To bricks the fires from the flicks
The play by play is on the up
Advantage to the push
But if they have a sapling lose
It’s all down in dirt and dush
The cornerstones are sickly
They beget the wards and pries
A firefight inside
Solid retribution for the ghastly
Golish stance the prance is up to par
When there’s a coursebook for romance
So sullen in the inergy it’s plausible for all
That past the udders under illies
The season’s on the call
Difficult to assimilate
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