[M.D. Holloway]

Tis not the spoon which I have quivel,
Tis the prose that posts such drivel
Be it said that said spoon had said
Inside my ringing head …
be driven mad with pain and rage
that I cannot turn another page
and expect one, a mentor or sage
to ponder and pontificate
in hope that it is not to late
that such muse of investment be rare
it is I that have no care…
for this smallish shovel for they gob to hold
ever be so shiny bold,
leafed in gild and impressed by mold,
initials, crests and that of gold.
Take this now, you simplest fool!
Use the metal as a tool
To fill your gullet, mouth and belly

er

er

er

for this poem sure is smelly….