proem

there's poetry and there's prose one comes flowing from out of my bum the other comes streaming from my nose then there's the in-between the unpunctuated rhyme of phrases and words in a skilled practioners hands golden in mine im afraid they're lumpy turds now get ye to bangalore because there is a man whom words were made for and never again will you darken my door except to regret that you never managed to teach me to rhyme properly or end sentenc