by Max Bouillet
gurgling in the slop
of his own gluttony
he sopped up the immature
squiggles before the rummage
of awkward wannabes
lapped up what was left.
(and that wasn't easy)
spongy and thick
they wagged rhapsodic
chanting, "I think I can. I think
I can," before eventually
lapsing in the phlegm
of a pneumatic goat.
(and as you can guess)
the prayers of spongy thick
wagging things rarely
wrap around the drum
of the cosmically inclined.
But pudgy handed he wrenched
the spongy thick things from
their phlegmy loft and crammed
them in the puddled muck.
(And the goat's been pissed ever since.)
Posted on 06/23/2003
Copyright © 2020 Max Bouillet
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 06/23/03 at 11:53 AM|
what is the old saying, don't leave an understudy to do Ham's work. wondefully satyric.
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/24/03 at 04:05 PM|
Quite inventive. A highly entertaining read Max!
|Posted by Vimal Rony on 06/24/03 at 10:14 PM|
|Posted by JD Clay on 06/26/03 at 01:52 PM|
So, it was cupid that got your goat, eh? Digestive poetry, Max. An entertaining articulation to say the least.
|Posted by Christopher Shin on 06/26/03 at 07:00 PM|
An interesting poem
|Posted by Marjorie Anne Reagan on 06/27/03 at 03:08 AM|
For some reason the only my response to this poem is ewwww....!!!
Althought I'm not quite sure why.