ABSURDY TURDY MAN
It used to be “made to measure”
Sometimes it was “tailor-made”
But I refuse to bespoke to in that manner
Using language that’s such a charade.
Fries are chips, I’m not changing my way
Cynical when they say “Have a nice day”
We all know their hands are behind their backs
Fingers in v-shape and “ Don’t give two fucks”.
Companies change words, they think it’s the answer
Frivolous phrases with “modernised” banter
Gutter-cleaner’s not under “g”, I fear
But under “logistical drainage engineer”.
They’ve changed my work
Introduced a new term
Part of a “family”
…but I’ve got one with sperm!
No longer a Storesman
Where’s my defibrillator
… …...I’m a “generic materials facilitator”.
So I made my way for some bowel extrication
Emptying the entrails of colonic mastication
Crucible of defecation was so full of shit
Used my palm-faced dexterity module to get rid of it.
I grabbed for the posterior petter- we had none left
My pivotal urinary gristle was looking rather bereft
My intimate ovulation partner was near at hand
“Proactivating” my anus to reach dry land.
© Copyright 2016 garrycroft. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Humor
Poem / Sports
Poem / Humor
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