From where my ass sits, I can feel the bottom.
It was a long time coming, like something rotten.
Stinking high heaven, while some got in high cotton.
My ass sits on a cushion of inflated dreams.
To wipe the stink from it will take a roll of reams.
It seems the more we sow, the crookeder the seams.
From where my ass sits, the sky was the limit.
Riding on a roller coaster with me belted in it.
But ups and downs can really bruise the bullet.
From where my ass sits, it rarely rains.
Right around the corner, from where I keep my brains.
When my ass sits get too full, they drains.
From where my ass sits, I feel your pain.
Like when you lost your ship, the mighty main.
Easy come, easy go, my ship looks like a seine.
My ass sits on a flying carpet to nowhere.
And I ain't going flying know how, no way.
So if you see my ass sits, don't dare touch ‘em.
Cause all you gonna get is bottom!
I'm fine on a fixed income..
Couldn't resist the word play.
More Poems
My Place
Read War's End, the
Novel
Copyright
2008 © Ronald W. Hull
11/15/08