Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
nicholas-pugliese-1Poems
The invalids, misanthropes- Spell-check your ego at the dooooooooooooor And though I fancy that fancy liqueur I'm of sound mind and jaded- Gore doesn't bother me and my eyes are all faded- I'm a child of the devil So let me level with you- I don't know what I abhor more, All this violence in the world, or the lack of haberdashery stores So I'm of reasonable theory, And awfully good at this- So let me circumvent this infinite abyss- Yeah, I'm ******** Send me your tired, your weary, your weird and your eerie, and I'll eat them with a spoonful of peacock ore- So I'm better at this than you are- And I'm from France- That probably makes you leery, But my pants are clean and I'm the God of War- Inadequate! Mundane! The pedestrian, Heretofore- I crush you, I'm a crusher- A garbage compacter pall bearer usher- I'm of appropriate quality- I spit at inequality with a certain measure of frivolity- I'm the benefactor of a luster- So let me rush you into a hasty decision- "I don't know about that," I hear you utter, "Stuff it, yo!" I tell you, this is intermission, not the gutter- So I'm a trap- As comforting as a spinal tap- Happy as a lark but fashionable as a jester's cap- and with a wire cutter mouth- With which I eat things with a forkful of infidelities- Though I find the rings hard to chew-
0
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 8:21 PM UTC
The Wretched!
The invalids, misanthropes- Spell-check your ego at the dooooooooooooor And though I fancy that fancy liqueur I'm of sound mind and jaded- Gore doesn't bother me and my eyes are all faded- I'm a child of the devil So let me level with you- I don't know what I abhor more, All this violence in the world, or the lack of haberdashery stores So I'm of reasonable theory, And awfully good at this- So let me circumvent this infinite abyss- Yeah, I'm ******** Send me your tired, your weary, your weird and your eerie, and I'll eat them with a spoonful of peacock ore- So I'm better at this than you are- And I'm from France- That probably makes you leery, But my pants are clean and I'm the God of War- Inadequate! Mundane! The pedestrian, Heretofore- I crush you, I'm a crusher- A garbage compacter pall bearer usher- I'm of appropriate quality- I spit at inequality with a certain measure of frivolity- I'm the benefactor of a luster- So let me rush you into a hasty decision- "I don't know about that," I hear you utter, "Stuff it, yo!" I tell you, this is intermission, not the gutter- So I'm a trap- As comforting as a spinal tap- Happy as a lark but fashionable as a jester's cap- and with a wire cutter mouth- With which I eat things with a forkful of infidelities- Though I find the rings hard to chew-
Written by
nicholas-pugliese-1
American
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 8:21 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem