Poems Are Fack-Tarded.
Actually,
as a matter of fact.
I am not a poet.
I promise you that.
So then you ask, why are you here,
Where rhyming and rhythming people are near?
And then I will answer, to your nosing mouth.
That poetry's art, that's what I'm about.
I like craftily putting big words together,
and making bad emotions seem better.
Enjoyment is mine, when I see I have written,
something where my ambition is hidden.
Well crap, I really just wanted to say that.
I'm gonna go buff my cat.
And burn my hat.
And hit my shiny cat into my flaming hat...with a bat.
I bet that cat is fat.
He did bad things with rats.
I hid his ashes under the mat.
Then I pulled down my pants and shat....on the mat...on my shiny cat in the
flaming hat.
Copyright © Claire Brunow | Year Posted 2007
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