Butter Me Up Poem by shimon weinroth

Butter Me Up



the soothing ointment,
balm of ego and id
worn on my sleeve,
feather of my cap
is never enough,

flows and washes,
unstintingly, the being
blown up,
all out of proportions
bursting out
of all dimensions

doting on the satilites
soon does deeds
satisfying those needs
tickling of the elbow
insensitive,
fragile funny bone

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Reshma Ramesh 10 October 2008

haha! ! very nice...........

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