A Blast of Gas
The courtly crew in solitude grew
as the man without a head
started smoking blow while
other's woes were not listened to nor fed
But the multitude did not get it;
they only bowed and pleaded to serve
the headless mass, full of intoxicating gas,
as he past a blast with so much vivacious verve
Never fear, for there are those near,
who hand out oxygen head-clearing masks.
Just put one on and then be gone
to other more important tasks.
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
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Written on 2009-08-13 at 21:47
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Phyllis J. Rhodes |