Image for the poem Lowland Haggis Of Unbred Souls

Lowland Haggis Of Unbred Souls

Touch by the faith of the mythical Swami playing pattycake in a Hindu grotto. Weep not for me wee haggis-wed, failed death on haggis bed of a granite gramophone. Feeling my joints locking, playing rigor to my mortis. Singing," R-I-G-O-RM-O-R-T-I-S, that's me!" Gathered around the haggis near the roux of turnips in death's satire. Hitting the plateau running like a duck-billed platypus in adulterated loco-motion. How deep is the haggis in Yokohami in this unkempt dark mold? Giving up to the lowland haggis of unbred souls. Blessed is the shadow in the nave of silence and the pedigreed unchained haggis. Listening to Wee Willie Winkie on the pipes. Choked by the girdle of Psalms and the dark witch. With a splash or two of tipsie. Pulling at my haggis strings with sleep's plucked heart and liver. With a dash of redeye from my quiver.  
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1 reading list entries 0
comments 0 reads 131
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
Today 1:15am by Betty
Yesterday 00:25am by AspergerPoet56
Yesterday 00:09am by Noble_Incubus
Yesterday 10:03pm by Eerie
Yesterday 9:45pm by Jordan
Yesterday 8:17pm by SweetKittyCat5
") ")}