Those EPA's backs?
Lackin' spine.
They fail to beat back
Frackenstein,
a freakin’
fiend – the
frackin’ kind.
Whose freakin’
field’s Frack
frackin’? Mine!
No matter how I
tack ‘n’ whine,
Scott’s lackies
back him
(claque o’
swine!).
Those hacks attack. Their
knacks?
Refined:
my taps drip
frappes of
blacken'd
brine.
Still, do I plan to
slacken? Nein!
“What hey!” say they. “Re-
lax! Some wine…?”
But when I fight...or
crack 'n' pine,
I’m smacked -- redacted
back in line.
(All's gone to
ru’n 'n’
wrack, in fine.)
Poet Poe pens nonsense verse. "Plus...phun," puns Uly, "I disburse." Its gamut runs from spam to worse. The po'sy posted...? Poe's diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a mitzva, mostly. (Not a curse.)
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Composed and illustrated in 2019, each verse of poetaster Ulysses ("Uly") Poe's illuminated nonsense lyric "What A's ... -
His MAGA baseball cap is red. Or else just hair sits there instead: there's rarely nothing ON his head, tho' often nothing IN it. ...
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