Parental Advisory

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

Simply put, we pose this where
prose 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 can’t stand my crooked teeth,
the two up top that are underneath
my nose. Suppose my proboscis
weren't so big. No pig could sniff like this.

No snout about the size of mine
would grace the face of any swine;
nor a forehead gleeming, seeming wide
compared to where my hair is tied
in knots with snot, ear wax, and turds.
I’m gruesome, in so many words.

So, in my picture, you can see
someone much like Alfred E.
Neuman - human, worry free,
& MAD as Hell, quite obviously.