Other № 139828
Whalecrack
Whalecrack and poppycock,
I sprained my sock.
Sleek mac wont mend my shack,
Or hurt my back.
Sea-gull egg, I weep and beg-
Don't touch my leg.
Treacle fever, from an unbeliever,
Sent to bed by the snake-hipped weaver.
Through greasy rain and warming pain,
I start to descend the hill again.
6 comments
Now... this poem has no purpose... it sounds like a poem parody or something... it's garbage... There's no deep meaning or even a surface meaning... Scrap this and come with something your abilities can create if you spent more time on it... I'll give you a two just for posting this junk.
Gave me the impression of a beggar (slum being patched up with an abandoned piece of plastic, sea-gull egg (coin), tragic injury etc. etc. etc.)
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