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The Passing (Free verse) by Stephen Robins
Oh withered man! hush your howls, I don’t wish to listen to news of your bow’ls, A Gentleman knows when one fouls, One should close one’s droopy jowls. Heed my words you wizened old fool, Did they not teach you in Preparatory School, Not to moan, shout, bark or drool, When you pass an everyday stool. A Gentleman knows when to exclaim, The passing of a monstrous stain, It brings the County widespread acclaim, And indeed a modicum of fame. But for your stool, my heart’s no pity, As your passing is neither large, nor pretty, It would not pass the acceptance committee, Of a Southern town or Northern city. It resembles, in shape, an ethnic splatter, A Gentleman’s should be smooth and fatter, Now shoo old man, I’ve no time to natter, I’ve a championship record to go and shatter.

Up the ladder: Sissy Faggot
Down the ladder: Silence

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Arithmetic Mean: 6.6666665
Weighted score: 5.1986713
Overall Rank: 4572
Posted: January 25, 2007 6:26 AM PST; Last modified: January 25, 2007 6:30 AM PST
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Comments:
[10] ecargo @ 167.219.88.140 | 25-Jan-07/7:24 AM | Reply
Ace. "Ethnic splatter" . . . just ace.

[7] Christof @ 62.121.23.56 | 29-Jan-07/8:27 AM | Reply
This made me laugh. That is a good thing.
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