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Horse meat & pistols (Villanelle) by <{Baba^Yaga}>
Momma said I weren't to havin' no future.
"What in the fuck is you staring at?"
Hi! I'm Orson, I'll be your new butcher.
Feel these saugage, now that's a SUTURE!
(But you've never seen a boy that damn fat.)
Momma said I weren't to havin' no future.
He whips out his wallet, to show you his pictures.
(Across your feet gallops a big juicy rat.)
Hi! I'm Orson, I'll be your new butcher.
Screaming is heard from behind sheet'd furniture.
(Orson's eyes go suddenly black, vacant, and flat.)
Momma said I weren't to havin' no future.
The gleam of his knife, such a nasty curvature.
(As you remember some famous Roman diplomat.)
Hi! I'm Orson, I'll be your new butcher.
(But little does Orson know, you carry a Ruger.)
"Thanks Orson for the *bang*, and the chat".
Momma said I weren't to havin' no future.
Hi! I'm Orson, I'll be your new butcher.
Back to poem details
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