On fringes of hoot from one-eyed cuckoo,
My trumpeter of dusk awakens me.
The laird of skittish wails I yell,
From inside my domicile.
From quill, broad sword of my feather,
The bellwether of my imaginations,
Etching words of intoxicating impositions.
Erotic subsidies arousing my proclivities.
Like a canter at midnight celebration,
My testicles of blue rocks, tightening,
Below the dais of my arising staff,
The corner stone of erotica.
Composing words and precum I spew,
Fantasies from my soul chest,
Inclinations of the cock I flew.
On toll of The Prognosticator seeking dreamers.
In psalms I bray my howling incantations,
Of poetic fornication beaming my smile.
From my dark shadows of evening wile
And wild flowers scent.
Casting grit on rem of your blinking,
My connotations of sodomy I'm seeking,
As your buttocks genuflects before me.
Gift of the sphincter.
Swooning in your predawn nocturnal bliss,
Sighing harmony with skittish wails I writ,
Nocturnal fornication of this night's dream.
On fringes of hoot from one-eyed cuckoo.
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