Short Frit Poems

One little fritillary
Hiding in the weeds
Shrivels up and fades away
Scattering its seeds....

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i took one look
and got hook
on that night
the mmon was bright
it was
LOVE AT
FRIT SIGHT...

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water was cold
iwas was told
me a friend when in
the fun began
we slash and bash
we did this each
the 
FRIT DAY ON THE BEACH...

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from the frit day
hear what i say
its a fight
for your life
as you go its a open door
hard on the poor
you do learm more
how to get by if you this no lie
any day you could be wack
you live in  a sack
GROWING UP GETTO BLACK...

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The Cinnamon Bazooka Bun is an ardent dough
a pound of sticky heat that dissolves 
the tongue in an orgasm of butter.

There is an uncertain pantless fervor here
in the parked Impala, a craven pursuit of the 
spiral core, winding mounds of sacchariferous frit

A cop drives by--and we shrink in our non-chalance
our frosted, reunion-phased glaze betrays no chance
that something untoward is not happening here....

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Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.

Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.

Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.

Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell....

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BUCKINGHAMSHIRE BOY
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.

Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.

Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.

Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell....

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