Air-Based Artifacts Poem by Zac Wittstruck

Air-based artifacts are always attacking arrogant astronauts, while
bearded bears buy box-shaped balls.
Car crashes can call out cowardly concepts,
doing death-shaped deeds.
Enough is enough, even for eons of eternities,
for fifty falls of fondue frighten the faithful.
Greatness gives good grades, and

hatred has many hell-bent half-friends.
Indeed, in deeds I shall indict myself in the inn.
Jokes can juke; jackasses go to jail as well.
Killing, on the other hand, kills.
Like lots of little losers,
many of them make maple flavored milk and mayonnaise flavored mangos.
No one now needs needles more than Ned,
or Otis the orphan, and
Professor Pete prefers pineapple.

Quincie of Queens just happens to be a little quaint,
right with Rastafarians with ranks of reactionary
software. Stuff like this sucks, simply because

there, time takes a break, and tells many tales of
underwear wearing uncles under ugly urns and
vehicles with vaguely visible vases.

Wherever the water was, Wyatt will go west, with
xylophones, where xenophobes are hiding.

You know, yakking away isn't the yellowest yarn to yodel, just do something
zany like zip your zipper or play with your zoolug.