Copyright Notice

Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fred Robel and Fritz365 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

#240 Good Grief, It's B


Is the bone the resides inside
It connects and binds
It props and guides
Directs things where they should go
Makes of me the form
That I always know

When I look in the mirror

Mirror, Mirror, upon the wall
Why is it, that I do fall?

Is the answer
Below you, is only air
While you need it to live
You do tend to pass right through it
Much like a sieve for the flour

Good grief, look at the hour!

Three o'clock
It's time to rock!
I'm late for my date
And the hate will not abate
Until I state my fate to Kate!

Dear Kate:

Believe me when I tell you
Beyond my control events have gone
Boned I was by the situation
Below find enclosed the cause of my tardiness
Bong, yes, it's a bong

I would have been on time
But I got high