Tuesday,
I don’t always cuss in my poems . . . but when I do . . . I cuss a lot. This poem has some language . . . so, if your offended by “language” . . . don’t read it.
Blubber
“Mother fucking one legged bastard!”
We got ladies present!”
I’ve heard worse from my twins.”
“Again?” William Shakespeare chimed in,
“Again with the fuckin’ twins?
Barkeep, tab me out.”
“Jesus, Dickie, I said I was sorry.”
—rrw 1o-o2-11 (rewrites o9-o3-13)
I don’t always cuss in my poems . . . but when I do . . . I cuss a lot. This poem has some language . . . so, if your offended by “language” . . . don’t read it.
Blubber
Moby-Dick at a bar getting
plastered,
“Motherfucker,” he muttered to himself.“Mother fucking one legged bastard!”
“Hey! Hey!” the barmaid squawked,
“There’s no need for that kind’a talk! We got ladies present!”
“Oh, it’s okay,” giggled
Media quite pleasant . . . ly
while sipping at a quaint Chablis,
“believe me, I’ve heard worse from my twins.”
“Again?” William Shakespeare chimed in,
“Again with the fuckin’ twins?
Barkeep, tab me out.”
“Fucking peg leg son-of-a—“
“For God’s sakes!” Ahab screamed.
Everyone stared then whispered he,“Jesus, Dickie, I said I was sorry.”
—rrw 1o-o2-11 (rewrites o9-o3-13)
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