A Smuggler Speaks

Enough of a struggle, When we banned goods smuggle To against riches snuggle And soon sound The Bugle Enough of struggle: Lots of body wriggle For Danes’ Illicit Gin That would lots of lips win: South Africa Necklace In Gold dressed like a lace… In my mind a rifle But its mention stifle: Brushes with The Customs Seizing people’s bottoms; Curses of their custom Of sparing not An Atom... Ahead kicking kidneys To down force one on knees My birthday with whole chicken Today is exactly The Day I said I must find my way Out of a Taxed Uterus, With odds getting numerous: Fifty-Two not Twenty-Five Splendid to be still alive! A Uterus that saw Hell, When I started sounding my bell; Doctor sure ‘The Post-Mature’ Now responding to Nature A Most Terrible Bleeding, Even as she kept pleading, The time: Night’s 11: 15 Of A Rainy June 15 And I heard: staying at church While Nigerian Bombs did search… Today Short Story Writer, In Poetry, too, A Fighter…