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    submitted 06 February 2007 @ 08:00

Bohemian Blarg

Written by Jack Morris
Rating: Superb! (5) (5 rating, 1 ratings)

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The bohemian blarg ape swims in seas, strange and sinister, he dreams of being a cloud. Kissing and holding moisture in his ever so cloudy arms. Holding and loving moisture so fully in his arms that it would never want to evaporate in summer heats.

Yet the blarg ape is not a cloud yet. The Blarg ape is an ape. Dumb and Strong. So often uncertain of whether he's a cloud or an ape, or a whale.

That he needs rain licking his lips to remind him. When he dreams that he is a cloud he is in tune. His grunts are answered in grunts. He senses rain. Electricity surges happily and warm thru his body like a fog. He can feel himself being enveloped by her.

Bodies linking up in a union of souls. Making syhmphonies. Yet he fears that he's an ape and the electricity shocks, the electricty shocks!! Fries his noodles. Cause the rain is heavy and cloud as an ape is weak to lightning.

He fries and burns, yet wouldn't ever turn away. The fry and burn feels too good.

And the bohemian blarg whale finds it's seas warm, it's blubbery flesh, so long in hibernation, "Awake-Alive" and even now eager to get off it's rump and dance with the rest of the crowd.

Such impulses our bohemian has known before. And this time he chose to remain on the floor. Draw pictures of snails. Afraid to sail too fast in these new seas of riddled tales, of mushy hay bales, of feed for other horses to read and hear, as they travel down their own roads of storied wails.

Yet this is a story of cloud and rain. Full of good and bad witches and warlocks. Whose brooms never ought to sweep anything under the rug... to do later.

And poetry written from woken dreams.
And lightning visions of futures... rocket into the skull, only to press outward on the forehead.

Perhaps this is even a suction/conduction ride, a curve to the top.

Yet the bohemian cloud, blarg and all, expects nothing, embracing anything and everything that comes his way. For as a cloud he is motionless. Forzen until a breeze blows him into the right place at the right time. All a cloud can do is wait.

Blow Me.

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