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the-olive-tree-of-erectheumPoems
The Eureka lemons were scattered on the floor Dotting the hardwood like a painting by Seurat And the dancers of Degas were nowhere to be found But here at 10 Downing St. Churchill’s predecessor knew what had to be done He scurried about looking for the key to his mother’s boudoir Alas! He cried And with the speed of Yeager He ascended the stairs, grazing the baluster But at the top of the steps who awaited him? The forbidden fruit, with leaves of the cross The passion itself And he burped as a result of the several White Russians He drank with The Dude And made his way to the place where Hooverball was being played Because it is a drunk person’s game
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Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 1:24 AM UTC
Stevie Nyx & Why Vulcan Never Wore a Singlet
The Eureka lemons were scattered on the floor Dotting the hardwood like a painting by Seurat And the dancers of Degas were nowhere to be found But here at 10 Downing St. Churchill’s predecessor knew what had to be done He scurried about looking for the key to his mother’s boudoir Alas! He cried And with the speed of Yeager He ascended the stairs, grazing the baluster But at the top of the steps who awaited him? The forbidden fruit, with leaves of the cross The passion itself And he burped as a result of the several White Russians He drank with The Dude And made his way to the place where Hooverball was being played Because it is a drunk person’s game
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the-olive-tree-of-erectheum
29/M
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 1:24 AM UTC
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