The Next Bet Poem by chris bowen, a.k.a to wit

the fickle fortune
of dune town
im from a shady beach town
wher nothins said or set down
just around
i could go on and on about it

the loud part
is hard heart
who has it?
brass and rails
or heaven fails
well...
its any
but penny
musgrove
who shall remain
untowed
didnt know
i was gold
and didnt fold
the tent right
wait..
is that right?
she said fly fly away

ok, the other day
there was cambell
a retarded salesman
and a dell fan
who could be
givin
anyone head
he was aboy
and a joy to his mom
you know
they got it on
anyway
the other day
he say
can i play?
and wrote a poem
about harm his dad did
with even sticks
and bad tricks
in the bed
nothin in this mans head
is gonna matter
they'll just splatter him a molestor
when his wife done confessed her
now this boy thinks he scored
and hes hard core
like the lore of elfs
ill get to welp you now


can i scower towns and look for frowns
somethins up, nothins down
we see town as a lounge
and a frown attempt
your expected to get a job
pay rent
but what about lines of spent
i wanna write for a living
where do i apply
they sky?
shy me just said that
over fed that
im getting tired so ill quit
aw, go spit