Goal Of The Century Poem by Paul Frederick

I can't take it lying down
kick the world cup
always a player
jog up my moments
the ting-lings began
fresh souls to my under feet
in my minds eye i can see it
the goal, the widget
and it's a clever move
from the goalie's thrust
why the lonely seller
a-rout to the elements
it's my turn boulagerie
wavy sticks and stones
aint a no wit
full of pulpit
the surging enemies
below the ball
who said it won happening
i signaled darn it
swift to my oppose
not a craftsman to hear
never you here
my tender boots switching
right to my coach
or left passed the moat
these mongreling at the mid soldiers
the call to my keeper
slow like to weep hurr
but it was my moment
death do us part
i wondered ho where
and all sized up that was my moment
the next wasn't a blur
but who says i concur
my delicate frame
no ebenizing pain
it was my moment
eat dust, the other battalion is coming
crunked up a notch
i was in motion
a little squeeze past the coroner
all geared up
only to rework the left butcher boy
take me for a fool
past intact
the midline past by a third majority
i hate to hear you speak
crush-landing is on your beak
so i'mma maneuver
see my back
in a fighter-jack attack
claim my sides
how the earth moved
may be poetry in motion
the kid from left field
now triumvirated
mind you
school brutes
karate school
he was quick off his line but covered
headed team defense
he'd already tweaked me to the right
and in a hustle
it was me them and the razzmatazz
GOAL