Ron, 

 

Lo the incantations rise

Into that nothingness despised

And hark the Bard indeed can hear

Beckoned thus he offers cheer.

 

Ass ensplintered; but I suppose

One could do nicely without prose

Even learn to sneak it in

Just make it line

Up like its

Important, but

Between you and me

 

O

 D

  D

Spacing is

A

N

N

O

Y

I

N

G

 

Wait 'til you

See what other people's

E-mail clients do to that.

 

> he

> he

> He

 

I go to sleep and when I wake 

It's a month later. 

Everyone but me has changed.

While I sleep I am 

A set of numbers and letters

In Sony's database

I am dust in the machine.

But dust I am and

>From dust I shall return.

 

Who needs the stupid prose thing?

It just gets out of control

No discipline no structure

No restraint and yes no soul.

 

If I must rhyme or pretend to art

I know the game I can play the part

Banished yes but it's no disgrace

If you get banished to a better place.

 

Case

 

---------------------------------------

 

Krimmel, oh krimmel

What of Case?

 

Has he been banished?

Was it disgrace?

 

What of Case

And his brilliant prose?

 

The kind that bring

Tingles to toes.

 

Was it urban blights

Or l.e.d lights?

Was it inquisitive

Idiots which kept

Him up nights?

 

Krimmel oh Krimmel

Please let us know

 

What is Case up to?

Is he picking his nose?

 

Is he scratching his ass

Or drinking a beer?

Is he in the fetal position

Shaking with fear?

 

Or does he just have the shits of it

 

 

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