Right Refined Tine Ore (Parody) Poem by Gert Strydom

Deserts are sunny and have no gardens -
Mountain hinder understandable with every precipice.
The sea agrees roguish: When it splashes in flood
crumbling next to boats, you cannot cast it out!
Dreams twang as if they delude with failing habits.
And the wind whirls all of the time.
Cities bring noise pollution, dust-clouds and the blues
and rivers finger mostly into deltas with water and silt.
The stars are just sometimes desirable and the suspicion
rises if you want to be a settled boss. If you could
scream bugaboo! According to the newest in acoustics
many sound thoughts become binary.
It seems as if all the fun is for the little dog that is spattering -
and for the spark of life? Refined tine ore is perfect!