Detroit Turbulence Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

There lives, in cities like Detroit
the devil of the haemorrhoid.
Perhaps the number of mobeels
that is, those vultures on round wheels,
makes easy work for this old Hemple
he hates them parked before the temple,
but it is true that those old asses
who on occasion emit gases
do sit too much on their behinds
and watch the world as it unwinds.
The artery that is in charge
of lower structures is a sarge
in ways that bodies never thought
it's one that surely will be caught.
It tells the great saphenous vein
that there is nothing that a grain
of LDL could not clear up
and this is how they filled the cup
of useless plasma and some C's,
only to find that God keeps these..
And that the numbers have been freed
in favour of the infidels.
So cut and burn, in case that weed,
the radiation gnome endure
do not forget to have decreed
that most of it goes for a cure.
So do give freely, but beware
the time when she did freeze for nought.
no matter, civil versus fair
it is the answer that I bought.