ERODE in pursuit of former glory that glory’s every institution:
STATE’s purpose to smoothe out faction by orderly succession.
WACKY quacks in bombast push to fore for faster diminution.
TASTY! cheered satirists then, who now groan from such oppression.
Checkout
TASTY options and flashy packages
ERODE the resistance of self-control:
WACKY characters dance across labels to the music of
STATEd refusals.
2023-01-29 words
ERODE, STATE, WACKY, TASTY
Crabbed age and youth
The NEWLY-weds appear to take their vows:
he an old bloke soaked in BRINE,
she, the apple of his eye, his former PUPIL.
UTTER astonishment gluts the guests.
Newly a Citizen
NEWLY a citizen; no longer a sojourner!
BRINE-laced tears beaded, then fell.
PUPILs expanded, entertaining with
UTTER gratitude how her grim journey had begun and just how far she’d come.
If The Kraken Still Had Eyes
NEWLY found specimen, giant squid, eyes the size of dinner-plates.
PUPILs, slits in light, plates in the deep, always seem to watch you,
UTTER fascination, thrill for the museum-goers. What if it were alive?
BRINE? If I were in there with it? It would see me . . . it’d be the last thing I ever see.
Note: this one is a counter-factual allusion to China Miéville’s Kraken, in which the specimen no longer has its eyes:
Its eyes would have been twenty-three or twenty-four centimetres across,” Billy would say. People would measure with their fingers, and children opened their own eyes mimicry-wide. “Yeah, like plates. Like dinner plates.” He said it every time, every time thinking of Hans Christian Andersen’s dog. “But it’s very hard to keep eyes fresh, so they’re gone. We injected it with the same stuff that’s in the tank to stop it rotting from the inside. “It was alive when it was caught.”
Kraken, China Miéville, p8
Weird
NEWLY enthralled Scotsman’s visage appears in the
BRINE bubbling double-time in the cauldron, his
PUPILs dilated at the promise of power merely
UTTERed in his presence.
See more at Notes by Steven.
2023-01-28 words
NEWLY, PUPIL, UTTER, BRINE
Warm embers in old age…
SUGAR, sugar, I’d love to buy you A ROSE,
but the florist’s shut and the car is broke.
ELDER, my elderberry, there’s no KNEED;
I know ya love me, and that ain’t no joke.
What Trees Might Recount
SUGAR sap pressure ebbing, yet bare arms stay held aloft in winter’s cold.
KNEED with branch knots, gnarled giant stands firm in time.
ELDER, awaiting springs, you watched our generations as they
AROSE, then fell. If you could spread our tales like a rustling canopy!