Poetry generator

Proof Of Thick Hearing

Return to the homeland of the love.
Enjoy the many muzzled attempts to rescue
the resplendent abys.
There is real fortune in lighting it.

The reasons for my respect
are swam in my fingernails of emerald.
Shut out and
closed off like a flint.
When the jungle is full of demonic hand
amid shrapnels and communist morbid salts

And the dry branches and the schools
at last give forth their troubled shrapnel.
The eager dignity of the bottle!

Carry me onto your helicopter - the lemon of my umbrella -
it's a chirping vein of invasions.
Carry me onto your car - the kiwi of my drop -

The poetic giant
imbues in the natural morning.
Communist egoes and weak alarms.