Microwave, not what the tabloid says.A Poem by Rev. Fr, S. D. Blankenship DDiv., PhD., MA. Name: Microwave, not what the tabloid says. Writer: S. D. Blankenship. 2-03-2015 Last night I was cleaning my microwave. Man, I can’t accept as true what the damn sensationalist says. They articulate I was throwing a festivity, for any one who was on TV. Giving away all my currency. I was on the obverse cover, Hope they sure look over, I was cleaning up some baked Stover. I was all the rage on TMZ, they said I was bigger than the latest paparazzi. Big news on the TV. Yeah last night, I spelt bleach on something that wasn't white. But they say I was playing it right. I had Millie on my right, Taylor on my left, Good God, they called me Todd. My sink was clogged. The print was large, not sure how they got that pic., but my apron was full of lint. Last night, is how it went. If they only knew all I did was clean my microwave, they wouldn't have anything to say. They say I was out with --you take your pick. I was throwing hundreds like I was a stiff. Then I sneezed, they loved that, wrote it down that I was dying of smoking weeds. Last night I spent washing the crud from the microwave oven, today I read I was full of lovin’. Woke up with two wet gloves, but the tabloids say I was sure good at making love. I never got that glass to shine, but every girl I know bought this S--- with their last dime. Wishing I could throw in the towel, maybe then they would see the stains of burnt cow. I wanted a night alone with Mr. Zatarain. When I woke up every woman wanted me as their man. After what they said, I just have to ask, what the hell do they say I did? They posted my dirty face on the cover jacket, I sure hope when they lie, they can back-it. The turntable turned into the red carpet. I sure wish I could say F--it. My TV dinner was the most exiting thing I did last night. Or was it when I got into a fight? I sure don’t remember, but they comment it sure was a blunder. Maybe I should fight them to a Sunder. I was home last night, cleaning out that nasty microwave, woke up this morning can’t believe what that damn tabloid says. Next time I think I’ll just watch TV, maybe they pick on someone else, when I at the end of the day, go away. I can’t disbelieve this all began the instant I struggled to launder my microwave.
© 2015 Rev. Fr, S. D. Blankenship DDiv., PhD., MA.Featured Review
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9 Reviews Added on March 3, 2015 Last Updated on May 3, 2015 Tags: S. D. Blankenship, Poem, Song AuthorRev. Fr, S. D. Blankenship DDiv., PhD., MA.Greenville, WVAbout[WARNING!] The syntax found in this manuscript of S. D. Blankenship's poetry could retain to disordered and/or psychopathic. Comprehend and examine at your own exposed thoughts. A number of words mig.. more..Writing
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