Foundation of sorts

 

The morning is betraying.  

Pies exercise a calming game.  

A mechanic drains.  

Agreeably lazily hidden, an orchestra matchs.  

Betting blankly disabling, it gives a jail to a tennis…what?  

No longer accepted with the fox.  

And balls of frantic costs.

Betting blankly  - a foundation of sorts.

The morning is betraying.

The Last Poem

The llama is damaging beans 
While a chocolate frog bruises. 
Bitingly, arguably angry, a colt skis a la mode. 
It gives a jellyfish to a coal mine, no longer beguiled by sails. 
And shuns chairs of frantic estimates. 
A computer generates poems.
Adieu.

The Penultimate Poem

The waste is conserving. 
Yaks analyse coexisting fields endlessly. 
An obedient llama saws. 
Loosely, aimlessly roaming, a zipper grates. 
Raspy, raspy, raspy...
Bulging, it gives a cloud to a lion, somber,
No longer embattled with a hamburger. 
And jars of frantic hospitals. 

Naturally

The baseball is attending.  Naturally.
Bloods knit, belittling waste.  Naturally.
A deer forces.  Naturally.
Lovely, advisedly hidden, a workshop heals.  Naturally.
Blinking, it gives a silver to a coach,  no longer on show.  Naturally.
And kittens with frantic stopsigns stop.  Naturally.