Whilst reaching for a scrumdiddlyumptious log of Polly-O, I stood looking at what’s left of the medley of magnetic poetry pieces speckled across my fridge. Over time I suppose some have found their way into the crevices behind the counter, strewn upon my checkerboard floor and squished up in its linoleum cracks, into the sandwiches of midnight snackers unawares…and such. So now the remnants of a once full kit of refrigerated literary morsels have dwindled down to perhaps 40 or so remaining hopefuls. But I’ve always been one for a challenge of lexicon, and so took a stab at what I could construct with the survivors. Here is what is now splayed on the face of my fridge between coupons and band flyers (not all at once, obvi – as you’ll notice the duplicate words):
MUSIC IS MY ROAD
I STARE AT YOUR HEAD AS WE SLEEP. LOVE’S SWEET MOAN THEN SILENCE. I COULD SOAR ABOVE TIME LOVING YOUR LIGHT.
MEOWS ARE CAT BARKS
PLEASE DRIVE ON AFTER DEATH; ETERNITY IS A TRIP
SHE’S ABOUT AS BLUE BUT NEVER AS MEAN AS HE
SOMEWHAT-TRUE LOVE WILL NOT DO
I RECALL WHAT HE SAID ABOUT DEATH. A COOL BLUE PLACE, REPULSIVE SMELL THEREAFTER.
LOVE IS CHOCOLATE LANGUAGE AND FLUFF
THEY POUND TV IN ME, YET I ONLY WATCH DREAMS
STARE, WANT, FIDDLE, MOAN, SWEAT, SPRAY…THEN LOVE IS SAID
LATHER A FRIEND WITH A WET PUPPY DRESS
Okay, so that last one was a tid-bit outlandish, but overall not too shabby, (if a little cheesy, pun intended) given my limited selection. Aaahh, the power of Polly-O….
The Blyss Catalyst 