My love your chair is a puzzle
Parts, no legs, back, not even glued or screwed
Just a pile of trash of sour muscle
Rewind your promises before they get denude
iguanas are falling
it’s cold outside
I have heard you worser, bitch
My work is renown and unsurpassed
Call it free, pulp or lowbrow kitsch
You, stile construction and quality are past
hearing cracking bones
make me feel digusted
A good poem is like a chair
Without rhythm and rhyme it’s useless
—-
Erik van Loon
