Her Obscene Cackling Green **entered into Colten Sorrel's 'Trippy' Competition**

 
Down by the wall of the cawing squall
You will hear her cackling green
Whispered words, considered quite absurd,
And commonly reckoned obscene.


“I’ll brush you down there,
with my dandelion hair”
Fibres strike in a flutter, mind in the gutter
As your seed takes to the air


In an explosion of stars
You walk a landscape of bra’s
Conjured by her laugh, the crazy old tart
Custard’s your cream in a jar


As you fall from the sky
With the grace of pork-pie
Widening the door, of this metaphor
To collapse in a web of soft sighs


Her final words come too late
In your compromised state
A flotilla, swirling in violent vanilla
Her debate:“Dear let’s fuculate!”