Friday, April 28, 2006

cosmic poesy

inside galactic center, so they say
a cluster of black holes is now at play

they give the galaxy its whirling shape
imparting spin to stars that spawned the Ape

and thus we orbit 'round a mighty drain
while sporting giant, useless, heavy brains

but to my mind, 'tis not a drain we see
'tis more an anus, heaving mightily

we go not in; far from! we do go out
the galaxy, an asshole primed to shout

this universe, so vast, so grand and black
a colon shooting us to hell and back!



Anonymous said...

the jive, the hand, the mouth it was
a taste, a roar, a tang, because:

its shreik, still there, in air like gas
cast glares, made chairs shake 'round en masse

folks ran, you run, and fun was done
no man, nor can, can shun the stun

of scent so rare, so strong and fast
it takes no time to make yew gasp.

Horace Jeffery Hodges said...

Big Ho, you need to see my poem for April 29th. Our minds run so closely parallel -- yours scatological, mine eschatological.

Jeffery Hodges

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