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.

Spy’s darling left falling

Jousting with the devil

Collared by the colours of her dress

Coloured by the collars of the mess

The jazz quartet graduated to squadron class

5 forty 5 seminal ablutions for the portent

The potions mixed of wildfire and dandelion

Come by to the pub, the guitarist has played his best piece

Bread spills from the jar

Into the pockets of the bureau de tabac

Ooh lordy lordy the fireplace attacks

 

What will the baker say to the dozen?

5 forty 5 and a few seconds late

Crispy loaves and lfilthy loafers

Gardenia. Spirits are weakening

 .

Hard in saturnalia. The shirking and frisking

Falter tops the cabinets swing wide open

The plumbing keeps a record of all your secrets

Spy’s foundling

The church is uproarious

Unglorious. By cross and on wand

Ether pertains to the disciples of kingship

Venus turns. Sleep is out briskly

Sleep and weep crispy

Deep flimsy