Look at that there,
over there it is,
there… a Rusty Bard,
you see?
Lolling by the lungfish
Look! Look at it, slobbing about,
drowsing, drooling,
pig-eared, cloven:
Troughing dross,
gorging oozing slurry.
Hose it down! Prodsticks!
Gercha-gerraway
Squealsnapspit…Snort off
smarting with shock,
grunts, sulks, and silks.
Happy is the man who can bear the things he cannot change – Schiller
Each time insurgent
Wind surges spank opulent
crimson drapes and naughty
gusts arouse dormant
gooseberries on exposed,
soft wanton thighs all sigh
Lush,
chocolate ground juice
breaches ripe knapsacks,
glibly squirting,
soiling deep plush pile rug.
On
garish cushions we float maculate:
spoiled flotsam; jetsam of anarchy,
Two headed orphans
scowling quadrophrenes
brazen twisted Sisters scream.
Grimbeau 