Bittersweet amplitudes

Banana peels on the seat next to me

Feelings of bitterness from a few angry old fashioned  men

Grumpy cats in suits, waiting for fish for their own horrible catch

Sucking on a cough lollipop 

Coffee smelling jackets, sweet feelings of silken cloth on my legs

Little bit more of a sudden drop in the way things move around 

Camp etTongue 

Angry angels antagonistly anticipate an average apocalypse.

Bored Bandicoots bandage brassieres to bring back bebop.

Centralized Centuars counter argument that most creationist of creatures the Cat.

Taking to talking in telling tounge twisters Toucan told a tale of tinkling tendrils to tantalize the thoughts.

Lion Leo lounged luxourosly licking lenticular lines lazily.

Frenzied fur seals fouruouisly flounce figure eights while fishing their fill.

Mindindfully meditating on malice and fishing minced meats out of his mandible, Manticore mislayed the latest edition of men’s weekly, featuring the mets. 

Watching wistfully Wesal went about her wisend ways and wrestled with her winter stockpile of walnuts.

Chilled chinchilla commissioned Cockeral to count consecutive children in the counterintuitive hope it would chase away the chills.

Friendly Fox found finishing frittatas in a fry pan a feindishly futile fellowship.

Generally Goose gives out grapeshot but Goanna grabbed the wrong goods.

Entertainment Eels and enchiladas, Elephant eases into his role as lord Eastwick. The Eels later endeavor to enscribe his entertainment as electrifying.

Jaguar just jives the night away.

Warehouse on the beach

Open sky above a cornflower sea

Smooth sand crumpled in waves

Red rust and so much dust

A slab that’s been eaten away

Crabs and octopuses live in little pools inside

Mosquitoes and frogs and little salty tree

The roof has almost gone

Where did it go?

Their is a staircase to nowhere 

And a so many rusty walls

A frame for something

Little rusty machines whose purpose now is to provide shelter for oysters and plants and little spiders

Eels are near one end, hiding in a salty briny pool the waves have cavound away

A little sign still somehow hanging on for dear life says 

“We work to make a better world.”

A little breeze and it finally lets go of its final rust filled screw

A clang. A noose. A place to be dead and be forgotten.

Tonight it is my home. Tomorrow I move on. I wounder if I want crab or eel for tea. 

Slmilk

Along the soft lines innocence
Made gentle clouds whisper lightning
Sparked instead of madmen rotting

Milk from ether dipped in metaphoric honey
Circular resonance drumming up a dusty gall
Answering moist noises in petroleum ounces

Blotting papers burned in psychiatric haze
Electric guitar shouts a storms last
Hard blind travel instance

Minor keys flooding cows ears
Wasps hatching, spinning, eating
Heat warming but it’s just a newsman on acid, don’t you know

Ocean under the rose

Preceded the deep
Prudent and true do you walk
Or swim
The facet of depth to release

Craven harbor my insignificance
Few blue stewed mawkish luck
Or trim
The last drop of glee to believe

Gathered sap wept
Few cents given anew do you stalk
Or dim
The hatchet of breath to succumb

Flavored palaver our repast glance
Worn clues, brown downed hawkishly stuck
Or in
The arrows globular tree be among

Flight and keel

Insidious remark of hatred

Leaving a mark

Newspapers fluttering in the wind

Not lean to kin

Herald to taste the smoky winter rains

Acid washed feeling sunshine

Popped pit of olive lime

Destroyed tower of sanity

Tripe of lies given a truth collection

Snide pimple on the face of humanity

Revelation present dime

Smoke in the carpark

The fire alarm banshee cry filled the insides of the mall like molasses. Every corner of the mall reverberated with it. People all around looked in dismay at each other, all searching for the nearest exit.

“We better get out of here”
“But the dress?”
“Keep it, at least you have cloves on”
Shoeless, Devine got up and walked awkwardly with Tam out of the mall to the evacuation point in the malls car park. They had just got there when the bomb went off.

Meanwhile, at the fire station full Emergency mode was already coming about. William was sitting in FRT3 half way to Belconnen Mall when the smoke from an explosion rose tempest above the horizon blackening the sun. As he got out of the truck a second explosion made him jump. They, the bomber was making it impossible to get anywhere near the building. The first explosion had destroyed the exits, the second had made it so anyone in a car had no exit either. Four close to simultaneous explosions from the looks of it, each destroying one of the ramps, or the road near the exit, making it near impassible. This was planned terrorism with one intent, as many hostages as possible in a confined space. William took a look at the rest of the crew of FRT3 and the crew chief picked up the walkie talkie…
Static.
It was blocked. This was more calculated then he thought. There was no way to communicate with the other crews, or police, ambulance, anyone. The mobile lines would jammed with people trying to call for help or trying just to call loved ones.
“Ok, we need to set up a perimeter, no lines of communication with other crews. William get the flare gun from the back.”
They shot of a flare were they were parked, glowing hot pink in the sky, a sign for all other crews and police, ambulance, and possibly more to come to their position. They would need to takle this one as a group. There would be no single person going in and trying to solve the problem by themselves, that only happened in movies.
There would be about, 600-1000 hostages in that building, the last thing they needed was a fireman amongst them.