You stole away from me
all sense of dignity.
All because I shared my inner secrets, so you laughed at me.
Twas it pun or notion that I should dwell
in this conference so that I may tell
the stories that are my lore and thus it is aghast for me
to see how they are trodden
when they become sodden,
full of liquid woes all mixed with poor renditions of door bells.
But I assure you truely
that I can be a bully
just as mean and vicious can my words be laden.
And thus it can be said,
that I won't go to bed
until the other CasConnites have paid in fully.
So I'll call them Cretins
a bunch of frost bitten,
typo filled, misspellers who let it go to their heads.
Thus it has been said justly,
That I can be as beastly
to say they're in their kitchens with a stuffed Spam a Roastin'.
Maybe that last was too unkind.
Perhaps I just need to unwind.
I think that I should call upon my wit, well actually,
not to toot my own horn
for fear of much more scorn
but the knowledge contained is vast, within my mind.
But it is far more nobler,
with just a touch of candor,
that I may apologize with my face all forlorn.
So the prize that I'm deserving
is a Kumquat for the serving
of an unusual literary style of poetry. Or
maybe not, since I
nominated my
own self. But by very careful observing,
you will all soon see
that by taking line three
and make it rhyme with preceding line, back by five.