Friday, April 2, 2010

March.



March,
I forgot about you

If you were more like my appetite this wouldn't have happened.

December was ignored too
But he was full of candy canes and couldn't care less.

But you, March
With your bitching and guilt tripping

Take a hint and get a holiday,
31 days ain't such a boast.*

(*I'm not anti-March per se, it's just that I'm a much bigger fan of April - my favourite month that also celebrates the first anniversary of this blog. I've rewarded April with 2 poems on one day!)

My fridge is cool.


*

1.
Them crook Sunday rellies
that hosed home
ripped across your cash hens.

2.
The hoon
laughing, being grouse
as I brown her.

3.
What the dick bucket?
Take your scarce daisies
gut is for chunder.

End.


(* Nana, looking good at 98! Oh, and Nana in no way endorses taking scarce daisies.)