Colours of Old Rainbows

Headstone,more than a pinch of salt, headstart dancing gavotte heaven ward headwind across headhunters hawk eyed old geezers 

Behold that haymaker coterminous the broken tides of halcyon days,

Meandering contraption with the broken staff of haystack needles hauteur haunting 

Hail not the sure temperament, drifting the mensrea across the bile of psychical hatcheries,

O that hatchetmen hardly indulged in hatchet burial 

Like a coal haulier not revert to where it is cut,

Like a harridan a hag not ventured to remorse the pelts of disconsolate ires,

Nor dread of being haunted by the colliery 

To haul down the colors of the haulms at the harun scarum of the colliery

Purple patch colours of old rainbows

A grisly grizzles groping the grotesque not to defy the grits 

Across the grenades of contemptuous grids

To thrash the grins and grimes of the green horns 

For gratification of not merely the green fingers or the green thumbs,

But battle royale to the pompous rivet of fait accompli 

Not the grandstands for circus games and visages wheezing like a grampus firing grapeshot of pulsating tremors and granulated grapevines and open defecation of gradient facts and fables

Bewitched beyond the bewitching sports of gourmet masticating gourds 

Like the Gordian knot salvaged by gospel truth 

Goodwill as hoods and goods and chattels of the hagiographers 

O that you may speak holistic grail of the goodies and goodygoodies

Does the gold digger ever abide by the hoots of the golden rules to pluck the Goliath fortune and not the David's fortune by the rasp of the golden mean?

A hobbling sound of gobble dy hook to the gluttonous rusts a gnarled temperature of the imperious gnats and gnawing reef knots.

Glimmering shadows cast over glimmering skies

Glidding from the gloats of gloaming darkness to the glittery and glisters of the glittering darkness 

Glinting beyond flight of flints a glimpse of glaucous glazes

That barely drizzle and frizzle the glamour of razzing glad rags from the repugnant glances  of haunting glasshouse 

Was there an imprisonment within an imprisonment 

To salvage the broken shards of prisoners from eerily eeries of burning ghats?

Beyond the hardluck stories the dastardly crotchety gunfire of the hard-bitten lounge lizardry and dogtroted dogooders hardly crack the doomsday 

Sour dishes from the disgruntled disgusting lethargies 

Pelted them disemboweled psyches to utter embroiled sacrilege 

Plait of feasible oozes to reek restitution of the wondrous gold mines.

Egregious dins on the grilling cheeks saturated by ding dong of growing pains

Once alighted the Dickens in a diabolical recess devitalized the opprobrious tides of dickenish forces.

Depradated destinies in destitutes teased in the refrain of the deeds of derring-dos

Demonic grails denigrated only by demesne of remorseful Dickens 

As vain ploy to dehydrate machiavelis and fusspot of fucking assholes cast in the open mines, bombarded quagmire of dandified elements groaning at deceptive freezing points.