At the foot, even hanging around a passerby is harmful
Here spruce boughs, like vampire teeth, are sharp.
Witches gather at night
And glowing in the darkness voluptuous evil fires.
- But forget you, miserable, about these thorny boughs!
Every true witch put their mother in the cradle ...
Here excellent bitches walk, their habits are boughs,
Tremble because you stand still if you are not a dog.
Burning orange glow nightmares
The penumbra of plexuses, hooves, horns, mosquitoes ...
Twisted in the devil's copulation of a pair,
And deprived of breathing couples munching Braga.
Anapest pyatiostopny, you echo the Viennese waltz
You cast low-decayed dreams on Brokene:
- Enjoy and dance! Calm down, relax, surrender
The third witch in a row in this apotheosis of spring!
What's going on with me? Reddens the moon little by little,
Here comes the dawn - and meet May Day, they say ...
But it's still midnight, and we must not repent to God,
And kiss on your knees, Messire, your brilliant ass!
Well we shall sacrifice holy Walpurgia - we are not monks,
Let's sing, have fun, love, whistle and walk ...
Christian decency sent < fuck you>,
All we have to say is < Fuck your mother! >
Night of the nights, off the roads ... Here the vice is turned into a virtue:
The kingdom of furious darkness - this is your possession, Prince!
Freestyle winds whirl on the Sworn Mountain
And damn beautiful witches weave in dance
And the scum ravages, trampling dirt on its hoofs.
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and in a moment be somewhere near you. "
Louis Sepúlveda ... - However, if you are tired ...- I stretched out with frustration, knowingly anticipating your reaction, - we will postpone the performance for another time. - Well, I do not! - Hastened to insert you.
I just smiled ...
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And what the correct “top” will answer to this impudent statement? And then the answer that Jenny completely out of hand repulsed. He doesn’t ask for anything, doesn’t listen to the owner ... - But, sir, who will explain to her then all the wrong behavior? Pained the sky beckons blue ...
Mike will explain to you. Right here ...
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Do not believe the star of nights
Do not believe that the truth is somewhere,
But believe my love ... "
W. Shakespeare "Hamlet"
I will be your boy. By the page. Short haircut. Takes with a feather. Tight chest jacket. Top collar frill. Wide breeches in the hips. Stumpy boots made of soft leather.
Is the jacket black? And the breeches too - are you dressed in the motives of "Hamlet"? - Yes, sir!
On the bookshelf above the table is a white human skull. And he looks at us with curiosity.
(Is he)
ABOUT...
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I came to your dream, flapping my dark wings, scratching my corner in space, winning you from the other, which might be near - but hardly closer now than I am so far away.
Here the play is being prepared again. Noise...
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I beg your pardon, Yuri, just now I read your mystery.
For some reason I missed in July, I did not see it.
Well, not bad, in the stream with the Master and Margarita.
Isn't it hard for you to write with such a long line?
At the beginning of the way I wrote in this style, but the forum users advised to switch to a more chiselled five-seven-seven-haul.
Reply
Thank you, Eugene! Sorry, and you rarely look here lately.
And the poem, in fact, only for the story, which is still in the process of writing. Like that:
- No, but what am I to blame for the fact that in the fifth column of the passport is “Nationality - a witch”? I was asked when giving birth? Or nine months before, even better? Now prepare your off-road broom, release your fangs - and at Brocken across four borders ...
- You can and Bald Mountain, dear. It will be closer, native Slavic souls ...
- Yes, what damn family? Solid Ukrainians with Sabras: vodka, bacon and potatoes. Neither beautiful horns can be found, or the beards are delicately trimmed, and it is disgusting to look at the local witches, Baba Yaga will be even more beautiful. And then still turn out to be accidentally shot down along the road from some “Buk” ... No, it's better to the Black Forest, there the public is more decent. What do you think?
Doomed sigh. To serve and to submit - in this role she seemed to be born, but she still does not pull on the domino. We'll have to do some more hard work on this, girl. But not today.
- In short, on the Sabbath fly? Then pick yourself a fit pozakyristee, such as black leather and lacquer, while I fill your broom with kerosene and fresh sour cream.
Reply
Well, a tempting passage.
So, refueling with kerosene, and lubrication in the old fashioned way, sour cream? Serious machine.
Reply
"Smetanka", Eugene - this is Mike and Jenny a euphemism for male sperm. So more than the old fashioned way.
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