(Written by and for my pseudonym’s pseudonym – a poem for the ages)
This ode I offer, to any hearer,
But not to stir controversy.
I brace myself, and look in the mirror,
Struth, that’s one hideous jersey.
Scams were plenty, cloudbursts few,
Holidays lost in the dark.
Bargain hunting for car parts new,
Ever weary of the shark.
Down in the mines, turd-fights we loved,
Each man a bucket and hose.
Splashing our pails, we pushed and shoved,
Wasn’t too good though, on the nose.
As star-crossed lover, I was off the hook,
Accosted by women all the while.
Top lovers’ numbers, filled my black book,
The rest of ‘em, on speed-dial.
Erotic literature, shades of grey,
Banned since the day I was born.
Oh, where are those sailors with weekly loot,
Bringing soft and hardcore porn?
And so we arrive at the end of an ode,
It surely wasn’t for nought.
I’ve got rhymes and poems by the truckload,
But herewith, the final thought.
In this universe, we are not alone,
That I suspect is true.
But don’t ask me to explain myself,
Cause I haven’t a freakin’ clue.
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