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Poem
Yours truly (me) just got acclimated to writing 2024...
whenever I needed to append the date to a document

Though the situation infrequently arose
for me to incorporate the year (2024 in this case)
or listen to a well trained
beetle browed foo fighter
named Jethro Tull
(in honor of an English agriculturist
from Berkshire who helped to bring about
the British Agricultural Revolution
of the 18th century by perfecting
a horse-drawn seed drill in 1701
that economically sowed the seeds
in neat rows, and later developed
a horse-drawn hoe)
likened to lapsed hippie old fogey chap,
(no much different from yours truly,
an aging former
long haired pencil necked geek),
who in polite society
does not give a rats ass,
if I make a ridiculous roaring ruckus
particularly after sneezing a bajillion times
subsequently when the necessity arises
to hunker down and expel
globs of phlegm from honker,
whipping out my handy dandy
patriotic blues clues handkerchief
totally oblivious to the madding crowd,
tending to my totally
tubular noisy outsize snout,
(which circumstances finds me
in a dilemma of a pickle),
whereby I proceed and nonchalantly
trumpet bugle with deafening blows
clearing obstructed snotter with horse sense
as I splutter inappropriate expletive
one after another
after a sneezing deafening fit,
which explosions and expulsions
of slimy nasal glop
compels people in hear shot
to stage a coup d'état
(after being splattered
head to toe with snot), whereby
a bevy of beastie boys from the hood
analogous to nasty,
short and brutish seven dwarves
mad as blocked up hatters
in unison bellow gesundheit,
which soundcloud
ruffles tailfeathers of angry birds
akin to an agitated flock of seagulls
admixed with writer of these words,
a Paul Bunyan reincarnate
twittering tweeting ruthless babe watcher,
especially Paulina Bunyan,
whose biceps and bosom
busting out all over
like dwarfish paleolithic musk oxen
on the hunt for red October,
nevertheless while female
doppelganger of mine
(cheaply tricked out
as heavily pierced sex pistol)
find me smacking together
mine saliva spluttering lips
while all the while ogling
unsuspecting babe in the woods,
whereat a surge of AC/DC charge
tingled within these lovely bones
cracking knuckles affected soundcloud
indicated preliminary Wile E Coyote
cartoonish characterizations
translated as yum zook,
who appeared to amble
with trepidation and hesitation
amazingly graceful and sleek as a black Angus
despite her snorting snout sniffing
my sense and sensibility,
she got inexplicably pulled toward
hot blooded videre licet Brobdingnagian,
one member from a race of human giants
described as being about sixty feet tall.
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