Rubble Is The Last Rundle Poem by Prince Rodoki

A rundle well felt
A peduncle to bear new life abreast
The oddities of wildest quest
Mortals seek and never seem to like
The top seeks no pets where pests hike
The way to the top is down
That way the hauteur will drown
In his stream of melted crown.
The last rundle knows not ease
Like a serrated peduncle, wind-teased
Bee-fleeced, fate-kissed.
Like a bundle of many candles
Gulp their lights at ferry puddles
We give up vigorous pride at the last rundle
The way to the top is down
That way the looser is crowned
The winner drones and drowns
The last rundle is nothing but rubble!