"spoog" poems
Cars, are's, bars, git-are's, oov-are's, dars and mars
With these I can construct a rooping Flargnar. Cigars.
And without these I am too **** in the far. Pooping in the car.
Now can I find the Kragar? Or have a lost it in Nar?
Wigga foug under the dug like a big bug in the rain, its all the same.
What a doog? Got a Spoog? Butter up your hands and put them in the dands.
If ever should have shooken my loog, then up-chuck all the poog! What a gwoog! Me!
But who else could it have been! In the long run no one but we.
We cannot it be, it was the glove who fell in love with that dove!
Show me the rub! For we need it to subsub.
Hrug, Hrug, hrug magug! shrug off the flug, please doug do a love for the bitter twub!
In the end it doesn't matter, I had to fub to wub it dub!
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 11:52 PM UTC
Pete liked to rent his splitters:
deliveries were the best.
The times we spent together
with saw dust in our vests.
He understood his buddies
if told "just need a day,"
We liked to demo splitters so
Pete gave them all a play.
Then head on over to Zepher
some lame was out of gas,
Stop to scarf a burger,
then drive to save his ***
Pete understood the woods
and dropped his spoog at night
Rangers took their samples;
but moisture was not right.
He is sadly gone now
the trees will miss him still
it's only cause I loved the man
and guess i always will.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC