The vile pieces of cloth
That of which haunt the dreams of poor innocent children.
Your stench is worse then the bile of eleven elephants,
in eleven countries.
Though, to me,
your stench is as rich as a million laughters.
A stench I cannot live without.
Without you,
oh wondrous stinky sock,
I would die a thousand deaths
while living a thousand lives
because I could not shove thee down the throats
of those who taunt me.
Oh stinky, stinky, crusty sock.
Your surface is as thrilling and complex
as the bottom of my shoe.
Your touch is rough or slimy,
depending on the faces of those who I have trampled.
Please, oh wondrous sock.
Fill evil's nostrils with your god send stench.
Let your smell, disintegrate the hairs from the nose
of those who torment thine soul.
They will be filled with great fear at the very sight of you.
And tremble at the sound of your name.
Do not worry my friend.
I shall allow you to reek havoc
and bathe yourself in the most foulest of things.
I shall behold your glory upon a pedestal
and seek your righteous cause
whenever your presence is needed.
Stand on your own my friend
and you shall forever be triumphant
in torturing those that aren't ill enough
to be reluctant to your repugnant funk.
YOU ARE READING
Life Poetry
PoesiaAll of the poems I write into this book is a collaboration of old and new poems that I write, or have written throughout my life. Some will be funny, some romantic, depressing and even just random. There is no way to tell what might inspire me nex...
