Poor 20's Poem by Zak Foreman
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Poor 20's
See them, gay and full of prosperity.
Bushwa I say.
The eggs with cheaters,
The skint smell.
We all go in the same hole at the end.
Roaring twenties, they say
Jake, all Jake.
Bearcat baloney.
I'd give it a Bronx cheer,
Now you're on the trolley.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: years
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Does the 1920's sound all that great?
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5/2/2024 12:09:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
