Hi hi hi, draugai. Pfidze in presence. Because Mr Kettle is in quote, pursuit of sedentary rapture, unquote, he asks me to go through his archive and choose poems and memories and reflectives for blurb-stuffing. So this is such.

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April 14, 2012 - Paltry (Poultry) - A Poem:

‘T’was a vulgar lass

Who in front didst pass

In a most unwelcome fashion,

Her hair in a Croydon,

Her squirt with a toy gun,

She aroused an invidious passion.

Her window descended,

Her digit extended,

Her mouth spewing lingua latrine,

Then onward she pressed,

More souls to molest,

As the red stole the light from the green.

With godly lament

And fevered assent,

The Fates wove a tapestry pure,

And so I approached,

Beyond all reproach,

A fairer world to restore.

One nobly meted:

‘Your quotient’s depleted,’

And readied for underclass rage,

She offered a snort

And clucked a retort,

The council house hen in her cage.

Amber gives way

And night turns to day,

But providence canst pay the bills,

So hold thine head high,

Look swine in the eye

And escort it back to the swill.

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Thank you for this week. Hear from us again next.