Pantpeapol Poem by JOY JOHNSON

SITTING HERE DRIFTING WINDS OF CIRCLES
JELLIED FROM MOVEMENTS MUMBLE ROUND THE CRATERS
HOLES BUMPING BUBBLES BLOWING BEATING SOUNDS OF THUMPS
GLUEY GLIMY SUBSTANCE MOLDED FROM OF BLIMP
DRIPLETS DRIPPING DROPS OF DOUBLE DOSE A DOZEN
MANY SMALL BLUE BUBBLES BUZZING UP COMMOTION
"BURN THE DAM THING, NO LET IT DRIP, SEE THERES GOES ANOTHER, "
"OH HOW CUTE THE LITTLE FART WELL IT LOOKS LIKE ITS OTHER."

TWEE LITTLE SOUNDS AS GIRGLES SQUEEK
MANY MORE ARE COMING, MANY MORE DAYS OF WEAK
WHICH ONE IS IT WITCH, AND HOW COME THAT ONE EATS ALOT
GREEN GLIMY GLUEY STUFF WHAT A SPECIAL PREPARED TREAT
HAVE SOME MORE HERE, EAT EAT, BEAT.
JUST BEFORE THE DUST OF DAWN EARLY SUNRISE ACROSS THE HORIZON
BUBBLING EYES ARE QUEENCHING TINY SOUNDS OF LIFE
GET IT WHILE THE GETTING IS GOOD BEFORE THEY EAT YOUR LIFE.