Based on real events, the culmination of which will be seen shortly.


Somewhere mounted upon the river,
which flows via fishing town to a city of light,
crazy and ill as Bopalopia,
with upside down rooms which make no sense.

A certain fowl, with foul smoking habit
saw a chance and sought to grab it.
Cracked the walls with firey foxgloves
and into the ether disappeared.

Seeping from the smoking cracks,
centries of dusty cactus flax,
which warped perception of visitors
of solid walls to twisting rubber trampolines.

Frogs vomited rainbows for days,
colouring the water ways
as cactus weed seeped into the feed
which lead out to the sea.

The empty estate now marble walls
and crazy rooms now plain and drab
The Institute called a rebuild
to something which needs no rehab.

Will there be soaring arches?
Or giant spreading pits?
Will there be golden gardens
or stages for their skits?

One thing remains for sure
if anything can be at all,
the cactus weed drifts to the shore,
and elegant will be their halls.





-High Hooligan Informant, Beya Storm.



Penned by my hand on the 9th of Lupar, in the year 542 AF.