'Psychic Night with Karen' is happening at the local pub
It ends with the dogs of war being let loose,
Licking their bloody lips.
Karen overthrows and bestrides her enemy in the bloody fray,
Ignoring the loud exclamations of murder roared forth.
But it is impossible to discuss arrangements with
An impulsive man who has tears
In his eyes and both his
Arms round your neck.
I listen to BBC Radio 4 on a Wednesday morning with breakfast -
Listeners are encouraged to meet the highly
Intelligent, bright yellow blob,
That doesn't have a brain.
Where are you Madame Chrysanthème and your experiments?
Dirty. Loud. Brilliant.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
