The Bees Are Dead


The Bees are Dead

Honey will forever be sweet ...
Oh what a delight to wiggle
your feet....
He is seated, there is no seat
She is heard there is no speak
Oh what a delight to wrinkle
your nose...
to wiggle your feet no matter the seat
to wrinkle your nose as to oppose
such freedom in your tongue
such power in your lung
Slowly stop socially still surrounding
six of the seven seas
the bees are dead
the flowers grass
my words are lips
so kiss my ass
assuming assumptions accelerates accusation automatically
dont you agree?
after all alternative apologies abolish attitudes
Sweet be forever will Honey!


This poem is about: 
My community


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