An Englishly Simpleodlium

Obsiliquent is not a word,
This word does not exist.
In other words,
Obsiliquent is utterly rindampulous.

Although,
When used in a magical realist context,
Could parse in a bambitarily, omfododily kind of way:
The garden gnome is astride my unicorn, obsiliquent;
For example.

It's so important to get these simple things right.

Bonsai Beast

Some men have penises that can chop down trees,
But some women prefer penises that buzz like bees..

A Fragrance Ghost With No Name Drifts By

And whenever I catch a whiff of her perfume,
As a fragrance ghost with no name drifts by,
Time's warped arrow splices,
And Love's atomic clock,
Tock-ticks its anti-clockwise meltdown,
And a handful of forbidden memories escape,
Their ashes regenerate.

Time's never a straight line;
It's a curving upper-cut -
A cosmic smack,
Care of the Bad Karma Police.
I'm not guilty,
Where's my solicitor?

Glowing pearls on a melting boomerang,
Thrown by a dream-time warrior,
At this desert pedestrian.

Such memories:
Lonesome grains of sand more precious than diamond.
The broken windows of space evaporate Time,
And melt away,
The comic, dark-matter shadow play.
The wistful dolly dagger twists,
A charmed feedback loop of deja vu:
Her scent: her phantom touch,
She's not here,
She's not here she is..

The Pylon And The Scarf

A silk scarf of crimson elevates,
Levitates,
Like a sky-bound alien manta ray;
The deep glowing slate heavens shimmer,
Casting the pylon a mysterious aura of golden silver,
And reflects a light so fierce:
A totem of shining mirror.

The darkest cream grey sky,
Whisked and liquefied,
All passive-aggressive,
Blasts down still-life breaths,
Pummelling the mustard grass,
Like bleached wig hair,
Sucked up into a cyclonic vacuum cleaner's vortex.

Brooding tides of air currents,
Caress and lift this abandoned scarf,
Playfully,
(Lovingly?),
Higher,
As it arcs the beaming pylon,
In spirals it drifts.

This pylon,
Like a dancer frozen:
A bashful pageant Christ,
His six energy-god arms seem to outstretch,
Perhaps to catch her?

The orphaned scarf,
Here in the so silent day after a night -
Abandoned,
Abandons itself,
In turn,
To the pagan power line,
And rests.

And falls,
Like a spaceman.