things i steal from other men
some people, i won’t name names,
like their poetry like this:
hop on pop with a red mop
while reciting the good doctor
seuss and mr. zop,
i prefer poetry that goes like this:
i was walking down the road until if forked
one tine to the left and the other lefter,
less traveled you might say.
not knowing
which fork to take i turned around,
went home to the warmth and hearth
of a fiery fire place
where i made some pinto beans,
some corn bread, some dirty rice,
and
some berry cobble for dessert.
after
such a fine meal i fell asleep
and dreamed
of going down the lefter road.
SBJ Studio 