till stories are telling no more with your cramping ink-dipped stingers leaving blood swash over every door; weaving traffic patterns of chaos - no time for bereaving bodies on the floor piling up swelling in Poetry's wake
For Christ's sake
Flank left, flank right! Take them out! It's now or never
I rappled and grappled with Johnny Blaze We did it hit it hard in so many ways - naked slathered in cocoa butter; sloshing in a vat of milk straight from a cow's udder; in a potato chip bag down to the very last spudder; on a gay cruise without a rudder across the Pacific; his hold on me was prolific Did I mention we were naked? I'm not sure THIS could get any more specific
[ On Poetry ] Drone Strike 3 ( More Poetry! Less Drama! )
the eenie meanie Queenie does her damndest to control everything that is and was said within each hivey hole; knickers twisted, her demand: a lockdown on freedom, and <--- ( hive shaped poem ) dismisses opinion she disses completely misses Poetry's power point presentation favoring Drama infestation!