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Well, The Pigs Walk!

Category: /Poem/Satire/

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Well, the Pigs walk down
the hall of doom, they don't care.

They have no other mother
than the sow of evil content.

She had a petty slow drool
she shined like a Christian
at passover time.

She never knew the future well
as she tied on her bob
her bows each morn.

She would walk and talk
amongst a foreign crowd
as if she was their Queen.

And yet when health the issue
or even saving grace
when faced with reality cold
toward Hog without true Bore
she faltered.

Time was never of her mind
only capture of the Lord
at best for future
(Who knows the realm of luggage prodding...
it by others there held “Personal”)
a new admirer one less of high
yet well and simple confussed
much like her to get.

So time come time go
here we are as if we never left
but a bit more stund and touched.

The time of atonement now
supposed to be and is
as if we never left.

But instead still to her content
of which the others much more
and knowing best won't
they off to the wedding of her best guess.

Well the Pigs walk down the hall of doom
they don't care.

And for them who noticed
past the stink and wallow.

“Good morning son,” from a wife
a worthy one to son with a saintly simle
before the study time comes his reply.

“Good morning Mother dear...
is the beacon ready?”).

By Michael Pinger 10/ 23/14

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