Published Post-Its Poem by Ted Sheridan

The Poet had become constipated and filled with a wasteful and debilitating desire
to succeed financially…
Not enough fiber or greens being served up with his clichéd metaphors of red meat
His pseudo intellectual friends scattered all likely culpability to the wind
And he'd been deserted by the minions of elitist lemmings who so vehemently believed in the power of ten…
Selling his license at six cents a word he was amputated from the tree
That provides every sap and sucker with its fruitful food for thought
The poetry the Poet had once written so prolifically actually meant only beans to him
Alas it had all been for naught…
fart fart good for the heart.....
As the now drunken bard of a poet digresses with every other word__

2007 © T Sheridan