If I had a choice, I would be a green boomslang.
Reposing in a warm African tree,
surveying zebras and elephants.
My back would be plastered with the prettiest
geometric shapes imaginable.
I would be six foot long, and
scary.
If a tiger tried to climb my tree, I would
bare my teeth, showing her my six fangs.
And I would be a male.
I do not want to lay
thirty eggs.
I would eat my way across
Africa, feasting on chameleons,
lizards and frogs.
Happy to be a
wonderful boomslang.
Male of course.
An old codger who farted a lot -
of good etiquette didn’t know squat.
When I met him, his nose
started running. He chose
his new shirt to wipe off all the snot!
Well, a nitpicker also was he,
and I mean it quite literally.
He was picking his zits
as he also picked nits
from hair, lice-infested and filthy.
With no 'shilly-shallying', I
backed away from that creepy old guy,
and I nearly threw up
being offered a cup
of his coffee. On top was a fly!
*Gnalsmoob, my poem's title, is a word new to me.
(from Urban Dictionary): A gnalsmoob is anything, particularly
a person or creature, that is completely and totally disgusting,
repulsive or revolting. Also, Gnalsmoob is boomslang, a type of
venomous snake, spelled backwards, perhaps because a gnalsmoob
is so ugly its appearance stings your eyes like venom.
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