My fine goldfish, you
inspire me to write.
I hate the way you feed,
soar and waddle,
invading my mind
day and through the night,
always dreaming
about the cutaway model.
Let me compare
you to a weak clover?
You are more creepy,
excellent and huge.
Bleak storms whip
the twigs of October,
and autumn-time
has the unfriendly kluge.
How do I hate you?
Let me count the ways.
I hate your alarming fingers
and lip, and gaze.
How your personality
fills my days
with undisputed rage!
My hate for you is the friendly pink slip.
Now I must away with a funny heart-
Remember my leaky words whilst we're apart.
YOU ARE READING
Incoherent Poetry
PoetryPoetry that serves to clash tonally and ideally with the objective that a new tone, genre, or coherency (some semblance of sense at all) can be made from throwing different ideas together in a bizarre gathering of words.
