He left the site,
his tail, so short
but hidden
between two legs
of seborrheic hair
with nappies tied
and tucked
discoloured.
To mess one's pants
requires fright
or simple mentirosis
but time has caught
this filthy louse
he was stood down
and asked to show
the words he fabricated.
No lower form
of life exists,
disgusting is a word
so mild and bland
it would not fit
this bastard
and his kind.
Of course he ran,
rachitic legs
pale face
and fuzzy beard
these lice, they don't
face music, no
they only lie and steal.
If I had access
to the likes
of him and
other vermin
I would not grab them
by the balls
or any other part.
But from 3 feet
full face, not hidden
I'd rearrange his globe,
though using gloves
or dirty rags
I do not like to smell.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-riddance/
