"W thought we smelt the afterglow
of sexual desire.
We snorted more and...Blimey! Cor!
'Tis Drumpf's coiffure, afire --
which odor's not unlike some hot
ignited whitewall tire."
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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Preppin' for the Protests: Stand With Ukraine Edition
MAINTAIN UKRAINE! BEAT the RUSH: BEAT the RUSSIANS! DON'T GIVE UP: STAND UP! DON'T SHUT UP: SPEAK UP! DON'T DROP OUT: SPE...
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Composed and illustrated in 2019, each verse of poetaster Ulysses ("Uly") Poe's illuminated nonsense lyric "What A's ...
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