by Tim Chiu
"Standing on the edge of doom...While I trigger much buffoon…" - a poem.
She smiles, “You're a bleeping nut…”
This young man seeks his gavel thrust,
As ladies judging trials must!
Standing on the edge of doom,
As she takes floors with a broom,
The clock strikes twelve, so it’s noon,
While I trigger much buffoon…
The motor purrs within congestion,
But lots of cars cause indigestion –
A regal life shall horrifically worsen
From folks who say you must be nursin’.
Confidence blends with trial and error –
Sensitivity is bent with terror…
They say a man who can’t is superior,
But our recent past shows we’re inferior…
This unit of measure for fashioned things
Is not for when our telephone rings;
It’s for those who sing with pride,
While showing their relenting side...