Friday, September 18, 2015

Words, Words, Twaddle, 32

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)


I just heard the guy say it—his “ducks in a row”—
And I felt my insides start to churn.
So I tried to calm down, and to make my heart slow,
But I failed—and I started to burn.

The grass on the lawn was the first to ignite—
Then the neighborhood—all up in smoke.
Oh, I knew that my flameout was nowhere near right—
And was not really much of a joke.

But I just couldn't stop till I burned up that guy,
Who is one of clichés greatest yucks.
So I flamed through the town—then I saw him. Said, “Hi!”
And I broiled both that guy and his ducks. 

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