Alright, there has been alot of posts about poetry lately. I would like to respond. I am unsure as to exactly what one would call poetry. Just about anything could be poetry. Oh yes, Kona? I like your chaotic poetry, but MONKEYS DO NOT THROW THEIR FECES! You've offended me. I spent a good portion of my young life being raised in the forests with monkeys! I was abandoned very early on, and several monkeys took me in. They are extinct now, I believe. (If anyone has seen a monkey, do let me know.) And it was a very tough time for me. I loved those monkeys, now they're all dead, and insinuating that they throw their feces is resurfacing the old emotional wounds I thought had healed. There has been alot of references to monkeys in posts lately. Did it ever occur to you people that some of us have real attachments to monkeys? I'm sorry, I'm off topic. The thought of my beloved monkeys got me carried away for a moment. Anyhow, I would like to contribute some poetry of my own. Here goes.

Leo is sad
His tail is too thin
It's tied to his rump
With a safety pin

Leo is happy
His tail has grown plump
How it is firmly
Attached to his rump

Chow for now...
Lemon 🙂

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Chronos, in the year 241 AF.