Gone Thy Lawn, Careening, By Thy, Dawn. Poem by Michael Gale

The old grass blades and Dandelion follicles are in great need of trimming...
They are evidently, over abundant, in a sea, that washes to my knees, that are swimming.

In a loss of vegetational over flow...
Af't the raining downpour, they all, do grow.

I need to get a new weed whacker...
To keep the edges, less and more, backer.

How do I count the ways of the unbend ed blade? ...
Have they, not heard my out cropping, bade?

Begone, begone, thy varmints in vine...
How might I slay thee, so that thou, naught, trip me,
and us, in inter twine?

Alas-alas, this over grown grass...
Ever been, being, ever growth, careening.

Snip, snip, snip...
Time hath passed, to prune as nip-

In thy, proverbial bud...
My undying forces,
measured, as thy, dud.