franwords

By franwords

October 30, 2014

Category: Uncategorized

1 Comment »

There’s a game to play to catch your life in hand. A sequence of not dropping five pound notes, of passing chief executives and hearing Hammerstein on Victoria platform. The great and good competence of recognition from a lovely bower.
There’s a game to play to be drawn to the castle, the duke, the grand legend of self importance that does not depend on glances in Tesco’s, a significant tattoo, a yearn on smart man in bilberries with wink nods or shaking heads outside Peter Jones. Having met the eulogies on justice, fortitude and inheritance, dapple capped acquaintances take their leave from hot beds in hysteria. auspicious is an unclaimed word. Sulkiness is defiance on the unheard, brooding league of scenery that is unfit. In singular analysis, Muffet sits too often with curds and whey, curds and whey . She is every age the vantage on where to go, how to sip and chew spaghetti. Both despised and useful are the webs of sticky plot. Raising hopes in telepathy is a craft at which friendships do not chase. Everyone else has advertising as a stead to nod to. Clarity of distinction can be talented to gut sedation, crimsons of loyalty and the most obvious. It is eleven forty and transport arrives with a minute to ascend. It is autumn for the starlings. Cressida has chosen to see the motor cycle diaries. Positive selection is relatively n/few. Noise is hazardously quiet, or the car seat is too low to judge turning but a tiny window’s value frames scope on an amusingly lewd heliotrope. One that could auction magnolia to the scent of keeping trail on spider’s incy wincy. The tough job churns on demand, seasoning malcontent with stoic response. How clever is the spider to yarn a trap in silence to furtive spies that buzz about shit and old peelings. Muffet has legs to dance on. An all sort is what she is from eating curds and whey. But she has stopped growing and wonders how to play. This can happen from work to spare time, week to weekends, awake and asleep. She copes with cigarettes to absorb girth from creeds of inimitable ends. Bonfires at her feet are unlit and swathed in skirts of polyester silk. Helpful as a lighter gathering fuel is lonely disposition. Playing there is mind games on a box of matches. The answers are S.A.E.s to Buckinghamshire. Post masters informing school graduates that classrooms are social reflections, pivoting strikes against insurgence. Muffet is pissed off in a toiletry fashion, keeping warm hands in rolls of paper. Spider is the soap dispenser when it rains, bubbles foam the bell pull against firing squads from next door gents. This is not funny.
I love Kirsty and have brought a single black flower home with me. It goes on a beautiful jumper. The bench in Soho Square has no flowers left from me. There was a film about MacDonalds which documented fat. I said I’d save her one, a big Mac with medium fries in golden arches. I still don’t remember her properly. I don’t remember Miss Piggy with her wonky grapes. I still haven’t passed the man with the Union Jack. I do and I don’t do I don’t do don’t do don’t, it was probably my decision. It is mine not to in the shape of talk, and I hate you Mr Elocution and all the pages of this diary for giving out the sad forward volume. It’s an old coal hole in an age of renewable resources, but misery is over.
Defensive policy is self incriminating and prophetic. Preventative measures of threatening foresight may be sensible as a green cross code. It is not wise to use it as a breeding code. To mix chef’s receipts for a food fight is probably wasteful if they aren’t cream pies. Guests are entitled to insult the chef, but it is not the dress code. Bibs are for the defenseless but an army of inmates have no entitlement to squander tax, be they vegetables or otherwise. Dry feed is one substance like raining drops. Chef in the sky pours down the sun as gin swiggers watch the set. Acid stains the ozone layer and flocks are hounded with cancer. Defensive policy would cry to live under ground watching dimension through 3D specs. Hospitals are underground monitors bleeping green lines on red hearts. The palm trembles to grasp the clutch to flitter. All the … are outside against unfitness in the park, against fashion in the shops, against poverty in employment, against creams and nos to icy buns. Against loveliness, compassion, de-selection, cognitive wastes which compound envy, greed, sloth, gluttony, lust and the other two, pride. Becoming personable in frightful accordance with didn’t, hadn’t and pursue. An absolute goal as a sporting battle isn’t side with lines of mist. One dimension is a frisbee thrown to catch. Electric leads the spinning thought. A main street hurls a thousand. Big aches are conversational, their advancement is miraculous, justified in sure location like jets and missiles. Handling an orange to eat it like an apple is a pithy business. Obsessive attention to the prospect of change could begin an orchard. The basket could be shopped. the orange swapped or peeling could set about compromise. Lose the orange with a bit of blue.
I had to play them with Freud whatever that means on face. Every presentation to the Mona Lisa is assured of virtue. She has a painter’s tongue. She is deadly egotistical to a jealous woman. A brush of emulsion soothes a corridor lined with ambition. A dead pose cannot so to speak. Oblivion to the charge is supercilious, required. Misunderstanding abates a bland storm in appropriate caves stashed with whisky goods and parable. Fortress shields not the slippery garden. Horses thread journey from steeple to chase rainbows. Marketing executive knows kingdom too. A mysterious gain in creation is apparent. The sparrow flits with no dispute. Only inspiration beats according to nerve. Lisa is a moan yeti worried by a sly tale. Shades of flatulence on the signature Robinson Crusoe’s choice to inspect the island is for survival at first. He grows to learn solitude from upbringing which becomes a blue rim to the eye. Memory teaches initiative to reminisce as a standard plan, the turtles swim ashore. The ability to pick bogies in the open loses any statement of impediment other than infectious behaviour. Gorillas my agree to mime and sympathise. A series of events, planned on an esplanade may honour a tune’s cause. Tides may swirl to season, absolute caution about the treasure. The meal is food, the egg temperature. The mood conditions to bargain where there is one. Cheery interloper proceeds where gloom won’t. Perhaps Robinson Crusoe is not alone but fixed in perspective. Take on the sky as a setting, sincere enough for birds of a feather. Hooray for September’s flight, all agreed but Robinson Crusoe. A distinction of charm endures the manner of surrounding if only bald pens could plume without dismay. The sea dictates what Robinson cannot, for the steel industry or effective rope. Pacific is more challenging than Black or Mediterranean seas. Flinty gloats from Kentish downs are scores to blunt fingers. Refusing the custom of less efficiency can be grueling. The answer was for Oz a brick road and traveling plot. The trap of paradise is trapeze to foreshortening distance. As the swing rides, it needs the heightening weight of grabbing hands. One swing snatches near to plight, but pendulums confer battery maintenance or winding quartz. Stillness in pestilence has value as summer declines. No touch equates sandy shore with knowing a written sum of granules. Laws of nature add and synthesise. Chicken runs supply a hungry city as free range. People in charge of idle stealth may not be eaten. Some decisions have codes for treating. A back log of paper may be read or recycled. Some greetings are mandatory and the slow man cannot proceed without exchange. A tether routes a bus lane and position. Bird chirrups from sky planes to goad attitudes from falling. Robinson Crusoe does not expect to fly but he looks for patterns. Thinking about wild oats could rhyme with goats and fatigue. Conservation in New York is about high story window boxes and plaza pots outside the park. Park is equivalent to shore. It is amazing to be jobbed around inland on an island. Proper thinkers know boundaries in friendship and book. It is not possible to read the wrong thing, evaluation.
Scene one is persistent breakfast. A keel for baiting fish, early bird catches the worm. Carling Hammersmith Apollo shows at dusk terminal. Stations of radio and CD sing martyrdom to find set piece. Shoppers buy morality on cue, even if they don’t. A road bus overtakes Persil with Alfie. Citizens behave boldly at a quarter to three. Smiles are sincere for the well conscious that produce to share. Minnie mice skelter on small wheels to feel manageable. Snippets on conflagrations are stored on hard drives and long lanes of cuttings set to sling heart attacks and bouts of flu. This worries interest in anything too deeply. GNP takes precedence to solutions that revoke new policy. Shelf life distinguishes Austen, all the actors harp on. Fresh slurs are safely inept on odorous tongues of invention. Good morning is said by half millions of bacteria. Others to footsteps and noises in bed.
I have a red coat in lost property and a mobile telephone at home. David Bowie in the Aberdeen Steak House with asparagus soup and spicy chicken wings. The West End shows Donnie Darko, seen but none of my business at the helm. It is practical to a problem solve at the level of employment, track the road show on Wednesday
Internet shop
Investigating around Waterloo
Asking the hole in the wall
Asking the Archduke
Thinking about Roseleen
Going to watch Alfie at the Empire
Aberdeen teak house with spicy chick wings
Going to the Phoenix without being questioned at the door.
Bombay sapphire with Bombay gin
The difference of likeness
Two plantations of society, one fixed with geography, the other with desire. Body landscapes. A table for four people with three seats to one side and a bench maybe three making six with wall and a passage ends. Orange brass candle electrics and brown water. Jenga with Zara and Hannah, introduced to the waitress. News roper art, like punching and splits. Bearded fellow thinking beer. Hands and groups to the pianist jam. Interval drinks to shows next door. A game machine that faces Notre Dame. Get help to stop smoking and the sax plays drums. Book burnings and situations according pages. Waistcoat and tie bar tenders, old beams. The farm is distant in the basement. I am the duchess underground, a blue pen and white light sphere. A chair is moved for space. Sitting by the empty saddle with Johnny Vegas on Sunday, Franz Ferdinand tomorrow. The ticket booths were closed after the Aberdeen Angus asparagus.
This week was a knell to John Peel. The blue tit in a castle, four postered in sleep. Opening the gate, the big thick latch. Tapestry and death watch beetle coursing round the abbey grooming an empty spell. Chris Woodhead and Duke of Edinburgh charge TV on the light brigade. Susan Sarandon wigs old radio, sitting by the loo with a saw in hand. Hello Jude, prude and nude, priced on a ticket three pounds ten. Map reading the teenage mind for control of the remote, a good hiding coat. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Dogs called Tiffany and Kitty for the cash of an orange jumper. Liza’s kiss exodus all with melodrama and a cure for number five’s guru. There are ways to dress despondency like the blame of an old horse shoe. Lucky catching the phoenix with a screw nailed back. A bin or a felt tip that rise their departures in downward motion Union Jack bags in the fable.
The sweetness of play backs tuned to empty foyers and communicate strategies. I say the hold is past remembrance for supermen guys. Whip sleeks of danger to love’s bed chamber. Three sided trues a leg in the air. Little grinch on the sideboard millionaire. This film is a sheep of sausage fat, stolen from the meal. A great calamity cradles the opus, but beardy beer is joined at last. These eyes bid the man inside with fingers and household pores. Mr Sheen is the name to the intern. I have a spray gun for mischief despite the cold weather. That man is John at home with rolls and lime-scale flush, duty paid with lift off to the you bend. Some things are best forgotten to processing. Even a bunch of flowers, peeling back the petals. Loves me loves me not, when the bunch were tied by children of impatience to standers in the queue. Spaniel palms weaning threats from golden bees. Sniffing on adventure with playhouse remedies.
The book commands a waitress daily. Hearing pleas for Christmas parcels on legs tired from carriage. Last stops at two am hone to the project of repair. Famishing broods of cold plates for brief gruel and pastries. Flesh is highly lucrative to the yearn of festival. One marriage banquet of sitting guests probing twins of beasty ducks and onions. The games bank is open after with EHT voltage and squirming toes. Some readings are coin banks of aphrodisiac. The mood of ghost spending slices the lemon in twain. Distribution peanuts and beans make good salad. Pharmaceuticals make overtures to symbolic release by guidance.
An implement is in action, like a rubber on words that don’t score equation. A mistake fetches a ruler or kitchen scales by the misdemeanor in hand. The sad face clowns deliberates on mathematics for the word to smile back. Finger of chalk appraises class from three till four when time is up and subject changes. It involves corridors, recharging batteries according sums to mental arithmetic. Lost boy’s tears outside the canal for the goodness of running loans on how to fix. Feeling for a winner comes as first prize, opening sluice with permissions in listing. The concerns of you are market innocents leaving behind universal truths, whittling chalk conditions for improved living. My boys are yours in war, better off in serving brew. Desertion favours mum’s decree of protection. Bone and egg with beans and ketchup. The cafe is smokey peace with ordinary cancer and roadside accident. Un fulfillment has the smile, video and a six week blast. Philosophers pout tallies, pears and blooms with season, temperance and immunity. The like likes the song, chained to cigarettes and unfelt hands. Little stubbies at the bar momentary to gauges of stubble. There’s a lot of short straw to brink, hoofing by on a green horse; a hairy draught of short laundry.