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Real Rally Rude
Another in a series of rude poems this is number five.
The boy eye noticed him and then ignored him remember boy
And the eye will soon get back to him as we aer now on bus again
And the costumers is oh so RUDE again eye will add the measure taken of this 
boy at the end again but listen as the private eye begin to make this poem bleed 
eye am gifted poet for the orient the citizen at least eh like to read and remember 
this is meant to be honor and not fun of it???
The man was so carefull to let drink level and to stand instead of sit
The man in seat was quick to understand oh my eye will assist this man 
He needs to be my only my darling my baby my new love he needs to SIT with me 
and now is when eye get to have my fun and eye am telling truth and eye am 
having fun. This second man rose up and offered the standing man his seat eye 
saw this done the man sat down so carefully to keep from spilling drink and in 
the same place that the man had been forcing him out and away from the 
coveted place that he had been so graciously removing self from site to add the 
other in to help a man in mortal agony to keep him from insanity to make his day 
go better and to have his gay new friend.
The man just could not believe this and hard very hard to accept it
The wind went out of his sails and OH he tired to regain his composure
And the man explained it very carefully NO eye am not moving into there
And he pointed to the window with his cup so carefully held up to keep from 
spilling and he gestured at the man to sit somewhere else just go away eye am 
so rude eye am the rudest man alive today. And the man almost did weep and 
found his seat and sat there carefully in quiet contemplation of his rude 
awakening of the way that people have upon the bus and then,
Remember boy now is time to finish this and go on to pen a better poem this is 
just a story and it do not even rhyme in rhythum that eye like (a pause) and then a 
sigh :”OH ewe where was eye at” the BOY ah yes He was in the middle of three 
seats and had a bag but it was fancy thing with wheels thow only two of them and 
a coke that he kept spilling and it was not the fault of the rhythum of the bus driver 
as he drove. The moral of the story is to count on people on the bus as being very 
rude and the rude continues long after the bus has pulled away this is a rude 
poem today
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