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Poem

Now is the winner of our disco tent comp
Maids glorious shimmer by
This sun on my Yorkie
Puffing clouds as Lorde plays in our house
In the deep base of the ocean eyes buried
Our brows found with sweated wreaths;
Our boozed arms
hands up for chocolate moments
Ring the alarms whoop whoop its the sound of the police
Our wayward marches due to delightful measures.
Grim has got his visa
The aged war has smoothed
And how, instead of mourning barbered heeds
Too light the soles of playful sand shoes
He rolls papers nimbly in a unisex chamber
To the languished pleasing of a Dr Dre loop
Have no shape for sport or tricks
Norwegian made dubious furniture not to last
I am that rude
Stamping on your majestic Magnum
To strut before
What you wan't man
I will cut that tail
Fair is my complexion
Cheated by the creature
Breaking is my nature
Deranged, not ends, start and not to stop
Breathing on this world, scared
your mind made up,
So tamely and in fashionably time
Take a step past my dogs that bark
It may be your last

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