January 18, 2013

Gravity


This is an all poem.  This is an every poem.
This is your neighbor's sister's boyfriend's cousin poem.
This is a starfish crunching under your foot poem.
This is a hot poem, a snot poem, a toenail fungus rot poem.
This is a gimme what you got poem.
This poem is wearing Bill Knott's underwear.
This is a tree falling on a bear shitting in the woods poem.
This is a spit in your eye, tie you up, and hang you out to dry poem.
This poem is digging your grave.
You'd open your fly for this poem.  This is a trillion dollar deficit poem.
This poem is hungry. 
This poem wishes you were an Oscar Mayer wiener.
This poem has determined you are ineligible for parole.
This is a go ahead and scream 'til you're blue in the face poem. 
This poem can't hear you. 
This poem is a wolf at the door.
This poem is cracked in three places, and it wants your guns.
This poem is a Tuskegee experiment. 
This poem is your Home, Sweet Home,  your Kit Kat, your black hole.
This a fill-in-the-blank poem.
This poem has a designated free speech zone, but it's closed for repairs.
This poem is a flame-shooting dragon wearing a crown of seven charred elves. 
This is your O holy knight poem.
This poem killed Jesus.
This poem has scheduled you for a routine mammogram.
Stop resisting!  This poem is gargling napalm.
This poem is red, white, and blue and smoking in the boys room.
God bless America.  This poem is your mama.





2 comments:

Agnes said...

I had to shrink this poem's font because it was too big for my britches and stretching the seams. Yes, sometimes I'm persnickety. Sue me. Use the winnings to buy a magnifying glass.

Emilylee Emilylee said...
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