beat drop


beat drop ( pord taeb )

oh, my broken timelord hearts
syncopate within the dark

of a great sink hole
in the riddle of the kitchen

that appeared overnight
like a hogshead on the doormat

from a little village weasel
jealous of my quill

yet the earth is still an egg
& the morning breeze is blearing

there’s a snare within this air
& a sound around the bushes

yes, there’s a rhythm in the styx
of these bean greenswards

so the music muddles through
with a wonky song for you