Aisle putt ta ma head but tween these skinny legs
and kiss thine braying *** good-bye
asper ma person, thine gluteus maximus
a boot the size of a hand held palm pilot cell phone,
hence nada worth ache cry
though ah share a preference not hood die
yet if push (shin the atomic bombardier button)
combs **** hove Eli
zha would be nowhere in sight,
thence salvation might be sought from a common
(sad dulled) horse fly
to bring deliverance (due ling ban joe plucked solo) to this guy
who reckons, there will no time to converse
‘cept as mentioned earlier me high
knee will be the sole recipient I
will spout hot air
and confuse the burst of flatulence from ma bare
swaying per suede bell bottom as an echo – loud and clear
that used to be mode of en dear
mint ‘tween muss elf and spouse – wherever she may be ‘ere
a presumption, she met her demise amidst radiation with fear
and loathing uncertain who to vent her angry glare
understandable to pay price for the folly of heir
don trump – perchance he too got vaporized as faux icier
flakes flittering among the global debacle – where jeer
grim reaper will be feted as like
at a fancyfeast with choicest bit
of human remains of the doomsday,
and immune to perilous nuclear fit
loosed upon the terra firmae,
where most every metropolitan center ground zero
but with heavy-duty weapons of mass destruction,
one need not make a direct hit
cuz the deadly fallout will make the entire globe
tuff Hester and become liquefied bubbling
as one large snake pit
thus no more poetry competitions –
**** –
yet writing aye will not quit
but scratch out whatever thoughts seem worthwhile
*** ping will discover bunched inside a iron made in USA trivet
and held tightly sealed via many makeshift rivet.