bouncing snake’s bouncing snake

A madlibs poem I created by playing on the site: Language is a Virus


bouncing snake’s bouncing snake


“I shackle my shifts and all the mons moans floundering;

I flutter my woods and all is fuse again.

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

The silt go inhaling out in puffy and creamed,

And spongy shift moans in:

“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

I fluttered that you fused me into silk

And freeze me stuffed, shackled me quite floundering.

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

Mrs. Jones moans from the silt, shift’s mons flutter:

Exit wood and Eddie’s silk:

“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

I fused you’d freeze the way you said,

But I shackle old and I moan your name.

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

I should have monsed a wood instead;

At least when silk flutters they fuse back again.

“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

– Holly Troy & Sylvia Plath

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I'm a rock-n-roller poet who left the Big Apple for the Big Sky Desert where I've been letting it be and grooving with universal love, singing to the gods, dancing with the muses and bicycling with dreamtime messengers. I like altering my reality through imagination, movement, breath, and makin' stuff.

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