All mistakes are brought to you by the abc corporation.
All revisions are brought to you by the Mr. T division of e=mc who?

Now run to the terrorist in your toilet,
Forgive the seeds of unwanted flowers.
A true real isolation is coming down,
When the A.I. finger is picking its nose,
And a toiling rose grows under the bridge of the trolls.

Texas hold ‘em,
The whole of the gnome-dom.
Gobble up the glow worm.
Noble golem relief,
Tri-state murdering thief.

What a whale of a stalemate,
In the fairy tale statement.
An American Dream Quilt,
A factory of stitches, nightmares, animal pelts,
And Frankenstein’s neck bolts,
Defibrillate the master plan.
It’s not over till the martians come back.

Hear ye, hear ye,
I wore a red cross,
For you to publish,
15 meters in length.

The first captain shouted,
I don’t care what you ate!
His mate replied,
Here i am.

Old as a whipper,
Cold as a dove,
Sad as a stripper,
Sold at a pub.

No more, no matter, the mattress increased,
Despite the moonlight sonata masterpiece.
Here in step with the patio furniture,
Release the callous cliche from the caliche.

Lament for my bones and for those who don’t know,
Dr. Jones was jonesin’ in fentanyl throws.
His blankets are soft, now burning in rows.
Didn’t despise corn that was sowed just to show,
How retailers reap it from that which you owe.
No cup of joe will end the endless B.S. flow.

This is war,
This means home run.
This is not a baseball game,
Retreat.

 

Andrew Borne is 2 Cups Poet 1 teaspoon Musician 1/4 teaspoon Salt 1/2 cup Absurdity 3/4 cup Chef 1 egg, beaten 2 1/3 cups Family Man. Mixed together and served raw. His column appears weekly in Oddball Magazine.