Monday, 14 September 2009


Last night I brayed a spider,
Three flies and
A few fleas;

They should have stayed outside
With their cries
And their pleas.

There’s no sympathy from me,
I’ve got kin
To protect;

I’d begin to batter bees,
If they sinned
In my nest.

Because I’m sick of their feet,
On my arms
In the night,

And the quickening heartbeats,
When alarmed
At their sight.

So unless they refrain
From smuggling
Their dread

I’ll address my campaign
To these bugs
In their beds.

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