Argh a Warg, blarg tan blorp zor carb

Hold your hoarse raddishes as I cut down on onions;
Milky-Way was circumvented to Orions belt, holding
Thor's hammer and the hairpins of Morgan la Fay for eons.
The spinache was making no sense, as it had peons
to arrest, for a feud, what never happened when scolding
the astray-men of loose canons and musketeers unfolding
to the abstract truth of nihilistic dispersal into oblivion...


There is no smooth operators on the other side of the 3/4;
my 2 cents already know, there to spend all pennies...
for Moneypenny doesn't stink and Bond is a NewYorker.
Only Lancaster would doubt that, or some russian co-workers!
My 10 cents think, what the hell is wrong with enemies,
crossing the distance between treason and Mardi-Gras remedies.
Bordering at the intersection of falling down the Fanta


Actually it was Fanta-Morgana -- the new conglomerate,
who bought all the shares of Fantagiro and Yamagato Ind.
to create a new super-soldier, who could berate
the opposition into a catatonic state of mind there karate
seems to be made of chicken wings and katas of insulted furys;
Gintama was sure, the sword is sharper than the injury,
a feather could score, but I dripped on some ink, and check-mate...


The steel-trap of mind I used version undisclosed, but made in China;
I believe it was late tangent period of nine months full of roosted marshmellows.
Ghostbusters there looking for slimer, but I needed a wingman to whiner,
so I conscripted him to be my second in command writer of Schnitzel-Weimars.
We drank only Vichy water and drove Tesla cars, still Bruce Allmighty bellows:
"Who spilled my beans??" I wasn't too keen on admitting, blaiming gremlins Hello's...
I could have also blame it on slimer, but I used that card up at lunch in Montezuma!