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Saturday, January 1, 2011

#1 Is One of Three Hundred Sixty Five

NO matter what I do

Or who I shoo

Away from the poo

They always come back

Can’t be the smell

Must be the personality

Some people are just pieces of shit.

And others are attracted to it.

Sweep it up.

Put it in a bag.

Dispose of it.

It’s the law you know.

Or citations will be handed out

Not hardly at random

I offer this defense

One of offense.

A strong middle finger.

Or two (just to prove I can still strum a bow)

Arm thrust forward, grasped at the fore.

Fuck you

And most that you stand for.

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