Enlightenment of the Kung Poo Master
The Kung Poo Master, he literally, lives the ancient art of Kung Poo.
He senses and knows, before you do, that’s there’s going to be a poo.
Living with depths of concentration: that we can truly, only surmise.
He deals in a life beyond us, though less ethereal, than some guys.
I found him on the Internet, where everything is always, really, true.
For 19.95 he said, he’d solve our problem of the lively problem, poo.
He usually deals with children, who hate their potty buckets, so much.
But, in my case, it’s my roses, the dragon claims to depths renowned.
Now, I offered him my fire retardant suit, in case his plans went south.
But he just bowed his head and looked at me, like I was really nuts.
I hadn’t exactly told him he was dealing with a dragon, at this time.
For whenever, I tried to tell him; more ancient proverbs, left his mouth.
When introduced to the Dragon, a tug of war on proverbs did ensue…
Now at this point, let me remind you that my dragon really, hates to lose.
In the end with teeth a gleam, we were informed in no uncertain terms…
That master or not, the dragon really loved his creative, rosy showy art.
So as the dragon blew smoke smugly, in the Kung Poo master’s face.
The Master lost his cool, and his statuary, peaceful view, of higher grace.
But kicking a snidely dragon in the butt, is really worse, than being cool.
So, it took all day of screaming cuss words from the singed Master Poo…
As our Trolls not so artfully, finally shook him out of our tallest treetop.
But never fear, he’s still alive, for he fell in an artful pile of dragon poo.
Now I fear the Kung Poo Master’s feelings, were by now a tad bit bruised.
For as I ask him, his next moves, he incredulously, threw me into the poo.
But this was nothing new to me, with a dragon, and a fire retardant suit on…
The idiot Kung Poo Master, then declared we should promptly, wash him off…
Yep, the dragon added insult to injury, as a stream of pee, rained on his parade.
In the end, the Kung Poo Master, didn’t solve anything, but I paid him anyway…
For where can you be so entertained, for so cheaply, in this day and age?
But strangely he left a card, offering Kung Poo lessons, weekly for $19.95.
RIGHT! AS IF! I Think I can do better, myself, now, after this, besides…
My roses’ migraines, aren’t near as bad, as the Kung Poo Master’s, now aspires.
Written 4-26-2013
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
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