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Image for the poem Funk

Funk'ed Famine on The Suga' Plantation

 


nowadays, everydays,  sweets
                                           falling
              off        of      the sweetman's
                                        sweet truck
                                                as
the sweet sweet truck was flatted of tire 'cause'o nails, city nails, razor nails,
                     piercing as would blades,
                     the erstwhile, black rubba dough'nOts.
           (may, hey, may-be they be liquorice circles that canno
                           spin anymore!)

(Time and temperature, pleas)....Temperature, Pulse, and Respiration, .
                           Vital Signs  (Indicators of Vitality)
                             Lo, Vitality! Be thy vital name!

Sweetman's Sweet Truck left town when no one be watching.
Must've stuck bubba'gum in that black tire hole to make a get-away.
Now, he's gone.

(Suppose wee should've been at least a little more polite.... i suppose).

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     2021jan5    dkzk Pooms&EmptyPromisePictures
Written by dkzksaxxas_DanielX (DadaDoggyDannyKozakSaxfn)
Published
Author's Note
"No victor believes in chance." Fred Nietzche
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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