Fake Resoruces Poem by Lex Taylor

Fake Resoruces



The dead have fun in calling us names,
Even mimicking and disrespecting,
With pathetic and fancy nicknames,
Which prompt a poetic justice deflecting,

Idiot bobicidal connotations,
Of another proletarian woodbine,
Their rank female scag adjudications,
As expected, from gross dead less than bovine,

Their mild, shy flattering was intercepted,
They are denounced and worked in these verses,
Goes without saying that they aren't accepted,
But taken as mere dead johnsoneses,

The cramped speeches of these commodities,
Their oxymorons, are sad oddities.

Monday, March 30, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: cemetery
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
From The Matrix of Death series Vol 2, Guffs Of The Dead
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
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Lex Taylor

Lex Taylor

Buenos Aires City
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