March 2007
1 post
Today a poem was written by a man, that man was me
Its about Pigeon’s shitting everywhere.
The pigeons come, and the pigeons launch bombs, To which civilisation, is not too strong, White marks batter our feeble paved ground, Whilst birds fly high feeling ever so proud, People run and people scarper, The pigeon’s accuracy, becomes ever sharper, is this the last scene of our lives? For now there is still danger, in the skies.
Cheers.