FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

  FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

It infuriates me! 
It froths my mouth
That pushy Beth A-hole, 
Corralled me into her “pen” again 
To write for her “pad” —
Her newsletter!

Then whiplashed me
Into her “automobile”
To further wrap 
Her noose about my neck,
Then squeeze it!

She’s a hornet like Irit.
I can’t take such shit!
Betsy Boots,
Who roota-toot-toots
Her flutes and horn,
Is another controller —
A hen full of corn.

Let’s nip the wings
Of the Royal B’s …
Clip them down to size.
Whoever succeeds
At this enterprise
Deserves first prize!