Mutinous

The only way up is down she says
And with a perilous smile one digresses
Sometimes it looks like other days
Actually all the while hits the presses

Buttons up and buttons down
Merry go round the angled squares
Bats are tearing up the town
Time to be leaving unawares

So to go and gone for good
Tinsel, pencil rite of write
What ado, if only would
Tongue to speak of overbite



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 623 times
Written on 2018-10-03 at 16:32

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