really I most love to chop up my prose

Panic was about to take over
all the Worry Force ground dragoons.
So they called for the most mammoth weapon
of worry the nearest base could spare.
The little chopper or the equivalent
to a little chopper landed the whopper
weapon – there was always a worry-filled debate
between different outfits about whether

this weapon was more mammoth or more whopper.
Depended on which commander was
commanding that day or that unit.
So they set up the whopper worry weapon
and got a good close aim at what looked like
the pocket’s heart. Just then but just too late
a radio signal came over the radio
and it was a signal of alert,

high red loud alert, “do not fire!
repeat! Do not fire!” But it was just too late
because the trigger was pulled just at that split second.
“It is not a pocket! But a balloon!”
And the last long o sound barely touched
the ending n when the projectile
filled with worry powders struck what
wasn’t a pocket but a balloon,

and like a balloon because it was
a balloon, the balloon popped, and the unit
had come as close as they dared so they
were dangerously under the Laid-Back
Balloon’s shadow; so the waters
which were nothing but the laid back
kind of waters exploded and rained
all over the unit of worry dragoons.


About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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