text of the art of use on lines to create scramble (The Poetry Thread)

By request of Pharmacy:

Unicorns are horses horned.
Of stars and snowfall they are... borned...

Their gallops strong, their gaze so... uh... wary,
They are... rarely stationary?

( also actually good poems can go here too. )

Once upon a time,
There was a friendly slime.
His artwork was sublime,
but he soon felt past his prime.
One day, he found a dime,
and covered it in grime.
He showed it to a mime,
and the two of them fought crime.
Then they heard a chime,
and agreed to share a lime.
This concludes my rhyme,
I'm off to mountain-climb.

My obligation
At least seventeen each week
There's the first one down

Cursed foul noisome tendrils of night
came sidling through the broken air
an atmosphere so foul and fair
there compared darkness was ever so bright

They wove in cracks of space and time
stymieing senses in sciences stained
defying of brains of the logically trained
Madness like snow, an unstable rime

Shattered and splintered and mindless they shook
in restraints, in belts, and padded-cell lives
speaking the truths that all said were lies
Not knowing that gods gave as much as they took

Wild tangents of symphony, unceasing cacophony
Speech as none knew since language's birth
Understanding unwritten upon this one earth
From the mouths of the mad, unspoken in company