totally improvised posting - very important to read

the silver bog has bound my hog as
around the merry go round I bound

harken, clever followers! this too
condescends to cleanse your minds

In the air I see them hovering, hoovering
Giant suction cups of spun metal spinning

Above the merry go round they scimitar
Like fairy crinkles with moose mush hair

O, the wobbling soundscape betokens gibberish
and they have come to the right man this thish

I must give them the bum's rush business
from the paterfamilias paternoster of pattern

Long, gloopy red rays emanate from their posteriori
And I beflummox their sad reports with golden silence

interrupting the flow of crimson raygun air with goo
saying, "I'll be me if you critters will only be you"