Note: a proto-song came through in response to this week's prompt. It is about some angels who get sick of hearing the whining and self-loathing choruses of dissatisfied humans and decide to hold a contest on how quickly they can each get one of us into better shape, optimistic from snarly. I like the idea of angels in a contest. The proto poem/song doesn't follow the rules, and it's rough hewn due to my current lagging capacity to string an entire sentence together, but I'll post a snippet here anyway...
muck of muck, muck of muck, perhaps the angels will change my luck.
muck of muck. muck of muck, oily sheen underneath the duck.
muck of muck, muck of muck, only celestials will get me unstuck
muck of muck, muck of muck. muckety uckety uckety uckety muck of muck.
Would have posted sooner, but it was a hectic week.
ReplyDeleteI love this start of something and hope to see more. Choreography in my mind is a circular yet chaotic dance with chanting.