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(dribbled the following cheesy tidbit when mice elf
i.e. Stuart Little and thy spouse Minnie Mouse dwelt
at a previous residence).
-----------------------------------------------------­-------
Against credo, ethos,
   and genuine holistic integrity
   to respond to such an event
as Minnie's or Mickey's, no matter

   a reluctance arises to don role as "killer"
tis with only the means and ways
   to avoid health crisis that i fervent
   lee exterminate existence of other species...

so please no unsolicited mouse a lean nee barbs
   against this august gent
tis a marvel to evince the behaviour
   of rapaciousness, when nary a hint

extant within me -
   except, at a cross roads arises
   when vermin take residence
   asper an unpaid inhabitant,

this one mortal mwm loathes
   to distribute deathly lethal instrument
distribution of d-com
   doth not make me feel jubilant,

   this chap doth newt
   deny pestilential buggars
   ought tub beep hoy sinned,
   and charged with heinous crime such
   as ****** committed by a litigant

   slapped unfairly
   suffer being poisoned
   imposing forfeiture reprisal
   tomb the tinker-bell tolls
visa vis a role in the realm

   within flora and fauna not meant
   for humans decreeing
   vermin lack purposelessness,
   and must be exterminated
   to own rights qua life,
   liberty and the pursuit of
   quietly when staking out an alcove,

   cupboard, or mauve wainscoting
   reproduction of species would nonchalant
take place if left to their biological devices
   this millennial saga

   of mice and men perhaps noah occident
and no matter what
   means one approaches pursuant
to rid the house of mice,

   these creatures reboot toxic tolerance
   to incorporate schemes
   quite innovative within floorboards,
   deep chambers viz zit ting
   expansive domestic quadrant

this Brie zee, cream cheesy,
though temporarily dislodged per demise,
   the recurrent adaptation reverberant
and stupefy supreme survival skill re:
   by a modus operandi

   with adaptive qualities salient
ta dum me little nimble,
   opal and quizzical rodents
   lacking redolence tubby mammals,

   though their existence
   and devil's blue diet tribe curd dish rant
might be diametrically opposed
   to American ethics committee, who slant
the bald (also balled),

   bold, and brazen cordon bleu appearance
   analogous to a vagrant,
   unrepentant truant
sans more than one
   little furry Munster of scurrying critters
   spur this heir force deputy
   issues a poisoned search warrant.
Richard Perez Sep 2015
It is not just the way that you move, much more or less the way in which you  
dress. The caliber of your presentation: it has no scope, no measurable standpoints.—
For you are a poem with feet, and at one point God called you a star.  

But you are a song, who is gently prancing melodies that cure my maladies. And  
I want no one else to hear you when you sing. Because I want to be the only one
who listens…listening until the day my bones run dry and no flesh, no carcass  
is left of me. And vultures shall feast upon my cruel skin, shivering in the dark rays  
of night, leaning over the crevices of my teeth. My teeth, the size of piano keys.

You stick to me, and **** the life out of me like a silky, black ******* leech. And I  
love you too much, and you, perhaps too little. Giving you each and every inch of my purple heart; still not being enough. And still when you speak: it is with outstanding
purpose and resolve. You spoke of love, even when love did not exist. As all  
eyes look towards you, and all ears lend their time to you too. As if you were a
magnet that connects two distinguishing charges: grace and charm.

Your wicked ways will be what I will die falling in love with. For every time I  
breathe slowly, and calmly, and every step I take, it is with confidence. I am not
a broken machine, living in this mechanical planet:  

I will eternally, faithfully, and all of me will rise to you whenever you shall
move
dress
sing
**** me off
speak…or…  
whenever you shall too love me, just enough.
This may be or may not be a poem but I'm glad I shared it with you.

— The End —