soapyfrog blog

Way back in 1997, in the days before blogs, I had a personal website at goron.org (long lapsed).

I was browsing through an old archive of it and thought I’d re-post some interesting pages.

Here’s one:

This poem was written on a fridge (refrigerator) using a set of magnetic words and word endings, e.g. “quick”, “old”, “ly” and “er”. There is a finite number of words and endings, so clearly, the more one writes, the harder it is to make sense.

To further complicate matters, the authors (myself and two others) were quite merry at the time on wine and Bailey’s. Punctuation and capitalisation were added afterwards to match the intended tone.

Here’s the result.

You Are An Enormous Sausage Skin by Adrian, Pam and Neil © 1996 Woman. Lick not my myst then blow together these luscious red storms. Recall your only purple part - rusting symphony. Shadow of your raw sweat, moans, manipulates and incubates bitter sweet diamonds. Are you an enormous sausage skin? I worship the sunshine and languid peach of the moment. Goddess ate deliriously scream and spray milk on those weak men who whisper their sordid lazy language to crush dreams and take me in a sad garden. Trudge through the beauty of my pink. Pants. The smooth summer rain like honey of a thousand still shadows lights the true urge to mother a drunk puppy. And. Yet. What is in the vision of man when to think of sleep? It is to stop and sour about bare white music. Wax. Keep his most juicy, though hairy tongue. “Shake up love and lather away with hot void”, said a gorgeous apparatus. Essential death in chocolate blood - ugly. Hear me play a repulsive fiddle, fluff from a friend under a watery petal, delicate was the easy eggy wind. Smell my fast finger.