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