I am just another face in the crowd, in reality, it does not matter who the poet is, only the reader. As these words are simply what lies in us all. I am simply doing the task, no, the duty, of bringing this beauty out of everyone.
Subtle linkage of nouns and verbs, muttered slinkage, with sounds and words. It yearned for ache, and misery indefinite. It churned a lake, or jizzery unprecedent. His junk cornucopia ripe, with berries paunch and brazen. This hunk wanna sword on the pipe, his nefarious launch of glazen. From cave to castle, and from torch to Bic. Forever a crave for a flame to the dick.
Some go for ripe, the fresh deemed selectable, Ignoring the type that is truly delectable. Engaging with the first healthy, reaching hand They shy away from the aged, those ready where they stand, Those who are blind to a mature melonís taste, Will leave it to rot. But because of me, not to waste.
A jest without words Thunder with no light A gust without birds Blunder with no right Assaulting the air and those it will enter Halting any prayer that include its inventor The disgraced body language can also scream the loudest He who broke the wind is he who beams the proudest
Once the pushing has passed, and the turd is no longer the issue You know this won't go fast, you face the labyrinth of tissue It's all because of you, the global deforestation All in your pitiful attempts, of butthole restoration You spend hours in the john, cleaning up the slop Never reaching the center, of the tootsie pop You've been wiping for so long Noticing the stench, as the log sours What you're about to do is wrong Anus unquenched, you pull up trousers