His
nous is fake.
(His
gnus…?
Fake
too, folks feel.)
Now
he, with
(thanks
to Yiddish kin)
fake
“…nu…?”s
may daily deal.
Still,
we’ll make sure,
impeachin’ him,
the
douche’s noose
is
real.
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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