Long May She Wave Star Crossed Centers Counted Twice
In the beginning the color clouds took form and churned like butter coming out of the angry farmer's wife that she tried by meditation to grease her wheel of karma-dharma. This the time before the milking of the sacred cows.
This was before each its own distance in the generation of her charkas the cheese curds were compressed and whey filled the sky with rennin from the saber tooth warthog, a giant on land as in the sky.
She had lost her hair and what there was lay with the streamlined grain of her magnetic body save for her beauty mark that sprouted thick vines for the remnant of gorilla lice.
As it was in the beginning so as in the end- but no one could tell the up from down, she rode her harry hoglett raised from the runt as her pick of the litter. In winter growing darker thicker vair the witch inside her as above was as below.
She sang a folksy song as she rode about how the shamans were lesser gurus and downright evil. The villagers told how some learned to meditate to win her, she winning them, that or they taught her to crawl into a corner and lick her navel.
Ale wives sun dried flayed fillets their skin went caroling around her bewitched worshipful beast and men, rubbing their hands together, broken wine glass bobbins floating free at sea, nets neglected, crumbling her heart by their minds.
Then the poles flipped around and craters like belly buttons changed inward and outward that a thousand worlds like eggs were laid, her porky beast stuttered at the fission of peoples of the book cursing all who would eat of his wormy meat.