Parental Advisory

Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we propose to posit prose-like poetry
forming a form of continuous connectivity,
to communicate considerable contemplative reflectivity.

Simply put, we pose this where
prose-like poetry is what you’ll hear
when wondering where the time went
while reading such rhyme wonderments
as oft are wrought, and revealed thusly,
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.


I think I'm just a huge mung bean, 
food for both liver and lung. Seen 
now, no doubt, as sprouting from 
among these words, 
like seeds of dumb. 

Duh kernels are popping. Duh oil is hot. 
Duh corny man can take it out of Duh pot, 
and into discreet little rhymes such as this
that you can consume in Duh room, then dismiss. 

I love duh strum of hummingbird wings
 as Angel harps on little things.

 One little thing she harps on hard
 is me. I'm duh retarded bard
 who shakes his spear nearby, and far
 from sight. I write. She drives duh 

Duh End.


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