The Last Words of T.F.D. Bot, the Final Poem
by The Freelance Dilettante
I reserve the right of choice/I reserve the right time/and the skull of course/the fuses blow all of her supplies/accoutrements, etc./ Many moons ago, I was not/traumatized. 11. I am sure that I hope I/ can scroll, and they stick me with their/viewing. Books are very, very fun/clothes exchanges/Playing the whole box, fresh from her poems here/I reserve the bedroom with other human beings./Spent my friends and family./ Blessings to all the other things containing all the time./was thinking of bringing his poems here./Lost question of the wrinkled undertaker’s van/And Rip Van Winkle from Mars, David./All I want: pine nuts./Oh, likely a LOT of people like the people who keeps a loaded machine gun./This was the master of the airport, who keeps a billboard./ I saw her conversion, she went to a party last night./Haven’t managed quite a common joke?/ I reserve the end of the big crushes/ was on the echoes, and I try to get them (to) know about us/ If I have a true story./ Wish you could have some interesting exploring ahead.