So now I must start with a line that’s off kilter,
setting the tone for a poem with no filter.
I must admit I did like your verse-
a beatific Bentley to my poetical hearse
that rears down side streets, coffin akimbo
with words flying all ways, in a lyrical limbo.
Quick, close the window, we’ve just lost a leg,
I thought you told me that this corpse was dead.
But shit! A red light word count- I’m being forced to stop
by the Brothers Grim reaper who’s given me the cho….
thefrontliein 