A Pom Without

Who wants it anyway?

That magic rubbish without a sound on occasion.

For us day by day

To guard against its annoying invasion.

Down with this sign!

What must it signify?

A “window?”

Ha!

Go purify your lingo!

An AI will construct an optimal list

Of words and ways without this symbol.

Primordial syllabary had grown ungainly,

With a count of thousands, to...

...26, and now from that to 25!

A worthy goal, to put it plainly.

Am… dozing off, ... succumbing to visions...

Of far going…and spunky abscisions....

...A royal dominion occupying king is in.

An ominous ring is surrounding him:

A lion of sharp claws,

A bird holding a bag of pins,

A virgin with jaunty bosoms,

A dark song is chirping on.

It is astonishing.

I’m staying strong.

“You, burglar, pal of silly thoughts,

Now follow us through winding roads

To royal tasks of glorious wins

To dragon fight of gloomy dins.

Our trip consists of tricky ways,

Our pity rivals snort in vain,

Our happy troubadours sing lays

Whilst staying only in your brain.

You won’t find windows. Woods thick woods

Surround narrow twirling paths.

Sharp minds mock passions of childhoods

With lust. Now go and find your wrath.”

I saw fangs cutting at my throat

Tits sniffing at my nostrils

Nails sticking out from my coat

Loud nordic songs and australs…

Windows, windows, I want windows!

Air, light must go through in and out!

What was that… an old saga of sorts?…

Bag of pins in a bird’s bill..

bosoms... burglar… ring… dragon. Ah!

Bilbo Baggins! An old fictitious fool.

Innocuous vision it was not

It had a worthy clout.

Truth said, that sign assists a lot.

Good harmony to us it taught

You saw your stanzas work with it

And now you saw without.