Man Suffering from Pathetic Fallacy (Edit:Christopher)

[Brownlie]

Well, I edited this thing. Lol, thanks for the comments. 

To you my honey in your towel habit at the poolside,
I have composed a complex network that will sieze the day
And writhe us both in rhythms that could hide inside a bush:
 
I saw a Spitting Cobra

tangled on the diamond gridlock flooring of my carport.

I must confess I loved him.

His limpness and rigidity,

was like a silent walking stick

Or a gangsters ad hoc club.

The rapid flicking of its tongue

was juicier than the most ripened figs,

and It gripped me in a fit of whimsy

with its corrugated fins.

 

I began to spill the Milk of Paradise

as my manhood mingled with its beauty

and I spun a yarn about a street rat.

My crooning  matched the likes of Elvis or a fabled Ethiope,

it piqued its heavy Dumbo ears just to hear my voice,

and I knew it felt the magnets that I’d learned from Whitman’s spellbook.
 

I leaned in for a money shot

inside my mesmer’s shining eye,

and later felt my innards melting into metaphor.


 

She wrinkled up her nose and walked away,
and I chuckled staring straight into the sun.
Up in the air, I held my fingers clenched into a ball
and laughed in mock derision.
The world had all gone to hell, I cried, 
while tears of laughter trickled down my cheeks.

[ChristopherSea]

Brownlie, This is an interesting daydream and quite ‘trippy’. Here are some observations:

To you my honey in your towel habit at the poolside,
I have composed a complex network that will (seize) the day
And writhe us both in rhythms that could hide inside a bush:

I saw a Spitting Cobra

tangled on the diamond gridlock flooring of my carport.

I must confess I loved him.

His limpness and rigidity,

was like a silent walking stick

Or a gangsters ad hoc club.

The rapid flicking of its tongue

was juicier than the most concentrated (ripened?) figs,

and It gripped me in a fit of (whimsy)

with its corrugated fins.



I began to spill the Milk of Paradise

as my manhood mingled with its beauty

and I spun a yarn about a street rat.

My crooning (delete space) matched the likes of Elvis or a fabled Ethiope,

it piqued its heavy Dumbo ears just to hear my voice,

and I knew it felt the magnets that I’d learned from Whitman’s spellbook.


I leaned in for a money shot

inside my mesmer’s shining eye,

and later felt my innards melting into metaphor.

She wrinkled up her nose and walked away,          
and I chuckled staring straight into the sun.
Up in the air(,) I held My clenching fingers in a ball
and laughed in mock derision.
The world had all gone to hell(,) I cried(,)
while tears of laughter trickled down my cheeks.

It is a curious read indeed! /Chris

[Brownlie]

Some good catches, I'll put your name in the edit of this oddity. and yes, I encountered the word Ethiope in Shakespeare, but there appears to be other like it in literature, such as swarthy or even saturnine.