You You You (bad poetry)

You you you

And really it’s all you

And really it’s not me

Because it’s really you

It’s you

Who who who

Told me about the birds

Taught me about the bees

Took me behind the trees

All flew

Away away away

Never to return

Never to overturn

Never to U-turn

Never did you turn

To return

To the cistern

Of the sister

And the Mr.

In the mist, or

The frisbee disc-er

Golf golf golf

That you never taught me how to play

And I keep throwing saucers


Cats dishes

Soured with Milk

To a horribly disfigured chainlink basket that is




Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *