Able To Do The Churning Poem by James Onuska

Able To Do The Churning



That's a steady pulse you have, give it tomorrow.
Can unblock two blocks, they rather be knitting.
It is two ribbons too late, I'm allowed to despise you.
It's madness I tell you, don't skate.
Beat a drum, do it with your oversized thumb.
I've got my toe in it too, it beats beside.
Been given grass, roll them up.
It's a complete set, don't be reset.
How do you set a snowflake apart, don't breathe a word of it.
What gets stored away, let us blitz.
Nine to five and I'm doing great, don't break a spade.
Pray do it, what hangs very low on you.
Break out of a storm, only the clouds know you did it.
If it happened it shakes, make an effort.
What fits goes over top, I have a trained eye for such detail.
It's the tail that does the wagging.
Can you recover from it fast.
Have the whole line blow up overtime.
It settles down nicely, it recalls past mishaps.
Don't grow shoots to prove me right.
Don't talk to the trapeze artist, it's a twist on things.
See my fist it glows.
I might as well call it off. Lounge in your chair, you are now the captain. Tear the top, must reuse. I'm cruising for a bruising, will never calm down. It's safe to say. You had it coming. No one likes to work it off. I didn't get it off in time. What a bruiser you are. How far does it reach. Can you please teach me. You are in reach.
Beaches are close together. It's watered down, what shoddy work. Want to behave. Have it concave, the more I saved. It's outspoken. You gave your last token. I was awoken. Can you fetch it for me. Spring a leak, it's twin peaks. I did it for weeks. Nothing sprung up in its place. I have the grace to settle it. The race doesn't matter. It comes in bricks, it's a hefty charge. I charge the line. How is it like to be owed something. I'm trying to reason with him. Trim the bushes. How can I balance it all. How tall does it get. Size doesn't count. Now we spout opinions, let the engine warm. I need a new spark. Where are you going to park it next. Don't be hexed. I'm able to do the churning. It rattles, now you vent. I'm not up with the numbers. Now invest what you have, pour on the charm. I'm begging you. Look what you don't have melting. Get with the sharing. Save a spot. Buy into it. It squishes everything. It needs to be monitored. It is stored. Get spilled.

Saturday, September 3, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: abstract
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