Glass Maze Every jumbled pile of person

Bolshevik Licking

And now … poetry:

Nose Smear Sonatas

Would you ever lick
  a Bolshevik?

Have you ever kissed
  a Communist?

Will you ever fear
  an Omeleteer?

The Fish! The Fish! The Fish!

Hysterical poetry groupies may line up on my left, nobel prize scouts on my right. I will endeavor to see each of you in turn, as my schedule permits.

That brought a tear to my eye. It also made me wonder what part your brain that virus has invaded that normally prohibits its owner from saying ‘The Fish!’ a lot. Probably right next to the one that prevents the owner from talking about ferrets a lot – but, seeing that there was no work to be done there, moved on to the Fish area.

A beautiful muse. I see a future classic satire spinoff entitled “The Three Omleteers”, who save the kingdom and the Queen’s honor from an unscrupulous noble using nothing but spatulas and diced shallots.

bolsheviks taste like potatoes

fish are only good for one thing…

the pan! the pan! the pan!