Poetry In MotionJohn Doh's Third Movement
The service I provide,
is epic in scope!
Like that of my armpit,
or soap on a rope.
I sense your doubt,
I feel your pain.
Not unlike Prince,
singing Purple Rain.
I hunch down majestically,
upon the street.
My friends call me shy,
they call me discreet.
With an oink, a grunt,
a guttural bellow.
Look Out! Here it comes.
Runny and Yellow.
They stare in disgust,
in the afternoon heat.
As I admire the steaming,
pile at my feet.
Creamy in texture.
Just like a paste.
Goes down easy,
with no after-taste.
Break out the crackers.
Break out the wine.
Pull up a chair,
and prepare to unwind.
No need to push.
No need to run.
There's plenty more,
where that came from.
