Erupting Like Flamingoes
Gone, the subtle;
Fortune by proxy
Has no rebuttal
'Gainst the vile doxy
Her cold libido
Seen through glass, clearly
Laid at the Lido
Shall cost Bob dearly
Drawn, the curtain
The pudding seems tart
We can be certain
Of rancor's cold heart
Contributors: | Roland, P, fester, Barrymore's Ghost, loaf. |
Poem finished: | 5th October 2002. |