Why is this poem here? you might ask. Well I’ll have you know that it is here because, because…okay that’s hard to answer. Basically it’s random and I wanted to publish it. I figure  Dr. Seuss gets to do it. And Ogden Nash (and if we’re being honest, e. e. cummings, like, all the time). So, yeah. Just don’t blame Holli.

Glurk Galoshes! Gunk the funk!

Beyonder, bounders bowing bumps.

So slithered Slinky Slim.

“By all the splargs in Christendom,”

quoth Slim in Slinkenese,

“I call you dweeb, and freak and plum,

and others worse than these.”

These flargs no sooner echoed round

than round and in the hall

were four grown stallions swathed in dearth

that had regarded all.

“Before you plug that yellow ward,

you yellow livered troll,

be sure your own escape’s assured

or else your name’s Shemol.”

But heeders heed and don’ters don’t

and Slim was neither three.

So bludging past the stallions four

he tried to run…break free.

Rounder pounder helter har

the horses hounded, grim.

And sloomy Slim had nothing left

but tiny bits of him.

Tears to trowling turrid torp

glum gloomy goomers gone.

Ween-weeny, teeny Slim.