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Poetry

Curdled words on a crumpled up paper;
Inevitable, the well would run dry;
He bethought himself a poet,
The Incredulotti wondered: what! how? why?
Tonality and lyricism of Lennonistic bent
Was all he could muster so late last Lent;
Irish courage from shores so Sonoma.
Whither rendering the last’s sarcoma
Or stealing a feeling from a grey Rad head;
Will he ever launder those sheet’s rank bed?
Louder and louder still the amp turns eleven.
Old rocker’s soaring trills thrill again.
But there’s no crowd to linger amongst the turnstiles,
Another limpid verse seeks posting on pueriles.
Looking for his cool, clever finish—
Good luck with that, Go Fish!

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Wats Dere Looking For?

Does you see dem crows rousting in my lawn?
Can you tell me wats dere looking for?
Can you be my girl, I write so much better then?
But loud came the watercooler repairmen—
And chased away my better dream.
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
First glass gone,
Second glass, looming—
What “engrasse” provokes birds so?
Where’s true love, do you know?
I believe I need to find a Muse.
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
We’re gonna have a man’tory meetin:’
Number one billion ten thousand two-ish
Clearcommunicationiskey:
Wats it about? GO FISH!
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
Does you see dem crows rousting in my lawn?
Can you tell me wats dere looking for?
Skeeters, beetles, crawlers creepy-oh!
If only us arachnids knew what was in store….