Notes on Old Asemic Film

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Oven Pan Abstracts : 47qbt – 50qbt

 

Midnight, I’ve spent another lonely day, thinkin’ of you
Midnight, tomorrow is on it’s way, empty and blue
I’m so lonely, so lonely at midnight for you.

Midnight, oh what a lonely time to weep, I ought to know
Midnight, I should have been fast asleep hours ago
Still I’m crying, I’m crying ’cause I miss you so

Midnight, I lie in bed awake and stare at nothing at all
Wonderin’, wonderin’ why you don’t care, wishing you’d call
Tears keep flowing like drops from a waterfall

Midnight

 

MIdnight was composed by Boudleaux Bryant & Chet Atkins. It is said that this was the last song Hank Williams sang before he died.

Howard M. Biggs (October 13, 1916 – November 24, 1999) was an American pianist, songwriter, and arranger. He is noted for his involvement with doo-wop, and various styles, including jazz. He was influential in the first days of rock and roll as an arranger.  There seems to be no information about the singer, Joe Costa. Perhaps, readers may provide some background.

Asemic Christmas Cards for Dadaists

Sailed into Isle of Plants trial harbour called Grey Sun.

The blood vessel, the sun, saw the price –

Your school hat.

 

What a beautiful oven of salad !

 

 

 

Street pavement regrets –

softly sing silent pigeons –

Oh look ! Bananas !

 

Fresh tones will be closed for the summer.

Yuko’s sad movement –

She decided to wash her eyes on the Queen ‘s head.

 

Tranquil feathers dance-

merriment abounds, such joy –

don’t slip on ice now.

 

 

 

Sailing into harbour

seven crows catching cold stones –

HO-Ho-holograms.

 

The taste of cocoa in the decision is not the lamb of the iambic onomatopoeia amoeba .

 

Order Template –

Always follow the bag.

Leicester Otter proper lingerie area –

The warm balance of sleep is in the capital.

 

Opening presents –

is your communication……

crackle pop, fireplace.

 

The Immaculate Detective: Case of the Asemic Chair

 

The victim sat rigid in the chair, as the Immaculate Detective approached the crime scene. The heady smell rose from the still warm glue gun at the the victim’s feet; with one look, the Immaculate Detective knew that Sir Sheddly Limpetskew the third had been asphyxiated in his Great Grandfather’s antique chair by The Mad Hobbyist of Blythe.

 

Stepping on cold clues –

the case cracked wide open now –

winter ice broke pane,

clearly, in snow the truth fled:

shampoo dreams went to his head.

 

 

Note: Inspired by Claudia McGill’s  two-sentence stories & poetry .  I included  lots of word-play & a rather intense pun. Music for those who need music – don’t we all ?