vibrate this, you lousy yogi-whatever

nor shall the visitor
with verve enough to enter
find tissues for dabbing at tears
shed by an earth with such a delicate
system too sensitive to tolerate

a factory fume or two. She must
look forward to only a few more
billion years. Bitch is immune.
Immune she is to what is far
from a new virus that is this

do-gooder plague, hinting the vampire
is no figment at least not these days
fast amounting to a religious
elimination of that dreadful
idea that having fun for the sake

of having fun must threaten serious
issues and don’t you know we have all come
to this point where no one will really cum
ever again because you know…. gurus
who can’t stop vibrating must teach us


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.
This entry was posted in no idea, poem, poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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