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Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Oneirology Larder

Whose dream is of lobsters? He'll buckle to mobsters.
Whose dream is of cheese? She'll be cropp'd at the knees.
Whose dream is of eggs gets prosthetics. (Or pegs.)
Whose dream is of bread? He's smack'd upside the head.
Whose dream is of wine? She'll be pickl'd in brine.
Whose dream is of trout? He gets punch'd in the mout.’
But the dreamers whose dreams are of wedgemussel shells
must prepare for subjection to all sorts of hells.

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Aeneid Anagram Mania

I sing of arms and the man... ...not his farm and gas mine...  (This is a tale of heroes in war, not agribusiness and the energy sector.)