It's late in the day, want to dose
But still have a line to compose
My head's full enough
But all of it's fluff
Thank God I am not writing prose
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
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We started our centennial tribute to Vincent Price on May 17, 2011, here. This monster marathon was our part in the annual Countdown to Halloween. It crawled along until it breathed its last on March 17, 2012.
6 comments:
Clear that junk from your eyes, and post-haste!
You just don't have one moment to waste!
Many fans are leap-frogging
To eye-ball your next blogging
If you fail, well, they'll mash you to paste!
Hey, pal, there's no time to feel listless
The public is a fickle mistress
Your lines are awaited
With breath that is bated
So emerge from your little chrysalis
It's hard to continue to doze
While reading the rot you compose
From sleep I awake
And do double-take
And never my eyes again close!
Well, I never, I do declare
Been treated like this anywhere
Your words cause much pain
When we meet again
A new one for you I will tear!
They say words won't break human bones
That harm will come from sticks and stones
But feelings are real
And jibes some guys feel
Especially guys like old crones
I'll show you, you young whippersnapper
I'll teach you to open your yapper
I'll pound some respect
Straight down your neck
But first,I must go use the crapper
(damn prostate)
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