Twisting the Sunday Away

Thick tock tick luck
Deep screaming Sunday clock
Walking talking tipsy duck
Quit snorting oh plucky puck,

Weenie minnie manny moe
What you see is what you get
On Sunday morning early row
Due is down and day is set,

Twisting twitty little hands,
Midday rhyming finger gangs,
Screen scrolling fleshy strands
Inch above the light it stands,

Miming gasping Sunday clock
Quaking under heavy glocks
Chalk up the smock jock Spock,
Ringer is out And You’re Stuck.

What do you think about the poem?

3 comments

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