Friday, November 6, 2009

Some Idle Commentary on my Poetry Career



The World is like the Yogi,
It witholds its navi color
Seamens from me.

The Burgers, they make no bugle,
the bugles, they see no beagle.

Whenerver I will
beggar, they give refuse.

Where heaver I glit heathern,
the Nixon tapes are dogged.

I am no pitiless
or pentium, pentheus
for the inside out heades
whose hades now
are never or never nowl bee

whooshing!

I give many quotes to historicas!

For it was I
that wrote

THE BOOK OF MIRDAD

Psi is not a parlour game,
but a purr-loined grammete.

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Irrony Observes The Earthing.