A frothing phantasm of frightening fortune,
bubbles bilious in the bowels of barbarians,
while sloppily sweet is the savory saint
whose caffeinated curmudgeonly countenance creates
a portrait, a painting, of petulant ‘plaints
Vindictive vaudevillians of vicissitudes verbose
sing medleys of misers, mimed by a moose
while caroling curlers curtsy in court
‘fore a noisy, neanderthal knows not what’s nort’
and so whines at the winds then wittily wins
Surely I jest,
but you know not the test,
that which I’ve taken,
at my own request–
for business is best,
when transacted undressed.
A festering fool finds self filthy-full,
when tightened and tempered, twisted by tools,
brotherly bearing, or broken and boring,
he’s fairly faring a ferry of fairies,
by cutting contentious curtailed capillaries
And the Villainous Vixen of Venomous Vendetta
turns knife into night and now into none.
And then at dawn-down is seen dourly done,
in a fetid and festered famely-known fawn,
ready to purchase and perfect, and by perchance prefect.
And now for the rest,
that we all received blessed,
some call it death,
but I name it “The guest,”
upon whose soft breast,
I’ve been caressed.