deepundergroundpoetry.com
....the NEXT WHISKEY BAR, oh, don't ask why......(from Kurt Weill, Moon of Alabama)
Tryin'like hell to pay
for this fckn monotony I'd
spilled
all over the patient clientele in
this
dump,
was not so easy as it
sounds.
Days upon days of non-mercurial leaden labor
put forth (in) an ultimatum that i am sworn by
some mother's (other's) grave, not to
divulge the specifics, nor the particulars, of any
of the cross'hatch puzz solutions and the
efficacy therein, of said solutions, as we were
privy (to) on July 17th, 1967, when there was ( was(was )
naught else that we could have done for the poor rotters.
There are
valu-able things
yet to be said, but
no one capable of
expounding such
drivel in the
normal course of one's distilmentary expertise,
(not unlike a previous example put
forth earlier this previous morning),
that will hold the after-mentioned rancor file
in any place so naughty, so vile.
This, by the way, is a true, [award-winning] explanation
of th'mighty discomfiting
things to come.
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[b]7dec2020 dkzk's poom+stuff = poomstuff [/b]
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