A true poet of mist & ether,
none would him master, nor him tame.
Like, once an anus spoke of poetic form, etc.
he just clapped his hands and said "Oh goodie, you want to play little word games!"
Leather jackets come hurricane, galoshes in the desert,
teaching !Kung a language of clicks & clacks by the nose.
Made more money as a statue than the most pitiful peasants,
plus he got to come out of it smelling like a rose.
He rescinded an unanimous vote to make him President,
spending all his time failing to woo pretty little girls.
Soured by his rejection they labeled him an infidel,
printing their little posters at Kinkos and collating them as well.
A true forage of risk and lather,
bubble bath, baby, bubble bath time.
Like, once a spiral unto your nethers,
aftershock in the form of an ovarian sperm crime.
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