Farts and Squeaks

An onslaught OF music SOUNDS,
no TIME for rhyTHm or mOVEment
and no symPHony fouNd
within jazZy tinker bellS
jumbling UP like
words wrong-the-way-around YELLS
nOIse,
and order FLATTened in a menTAL cRAze;
that’s no way an Orchestra plays.

To my EArs, poiSED fOR fORm,
I Sit in pAiN,
in vAIn,
as raIN becomes sToRM
and OF a suDden, pEAks;
anoTHer onSLauGht
of farts aNd squeaks.

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Author: George McDermid

I scratch out poems, and the odd little tale. Mostly for my own amusement.

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