Poem -

A (growing) menagerie of stuffed animals And Beanie Babies

A (growing) menagerie of stuffed animals And Beanie Babies

The following doth constitute
combination of fact and fiction
unfortunately not sentences
referencing overactive spousal glute
though sphincter roaring
could muscle us into ample loot
(after wife explodes open bank vault)
versus ass spire ring writer root
ting to live nsync ecologically
viz hypothetical analogous member
of indigenous people named Yakut
living in scattered settlements in northern Siberia.

Impossible mission to clear space on the bed,
when yours truly feels dead
tired, nothing does magic trick than position fathead
of mine (me noggin actually small and roundish)
with brow emblematic of being highbred,
cuz sleeping quarters
overrun By Teddy Bears And Beanie Babies.

Twas the bright idea of zee missus aye air
and I dedicate this poem
yes tis correct, if ewe bare
lee remember this mister
did formerly she-push-lee duck clear
addressed said spouse
"my little buttock blaster” endear
ring pet name applied for obvious reasons,
(her posterior end pulsates with putrid plume),
and before she begat two 'ere
rip press ably lovely daughters),
anyway thee wife I fear
to publicize contracted a benign
strain sans incurable glare
ring house cleaning malady,
(thus far no unpronounceable hair
raising name affixed
to non contagious ill, nonetheless
accursed conditioned fanatically
jumpstarting organizing unkempt apartment,
whereby to keep tear filling
misery drowning ocean
of sorrows distant at bay,
scrubbing stubborn stains
from clothes, dishes,
and gamut of hibernating
Ursine horde (née motley crue)

that come breathing alive
Nsync with Beastie Boys bay
sic City Rollers Culture Clubbing babes
upon first spring day
engrossed in this, that,
or some other sweeping floor foray
(analogously to Velveteen Rabbit)
shedding matted "faux" fur gray
winter coat when warmer temperatures arrive,
where humongous fur clumps would lay
comprising sudden empty raft
of shelf space minus a may
zing globules, oh...lemme get on track,
regarding poetic melee,
whence frenzied fever "cleaning bug" née
major virus afflicting wife,
would necessitate impossible task
whereby strapping former
feisty Norwegian farm gal
in straight jacket indeed livingsocial
would be no game to play
boot tiring and cruel task of her life Yukon say
24/7 daily challenge devious skullduggery
Smokey and the Bandits
an imp posse sub bill
outlaw gang, who lived like
Aristo curr Rats along the quay,
which unpredictable time frame
thine remaining lifetime sans wife oy vey
would frank lee zap
every last oomph of mine
if able twin door remaining with spouse,
meanwhile 'till she obliviously
plucks persistent sprouting
stranded silver follicle
tiller broad forehead resembles
a minuscule tarmac way.

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