This was a collaborative poem between Jen, Ada and Sean.
The Golden Goats of Sloatsburg
The vibration of Sloatsburg grows
heavy across the space-time continuum.
Mortimer Penis looks askance
at Dolly Vagina's new purchase.
O! Golden goats! How lovely
the prancing is, the wool.
Who will buy this beautiful goatvag?
I'm so high, we're already dead.
O! Goatvag, so greasy, so warm--
a three-legged dog cannot compete with you
even though the low bridge of Sloatsburg
says "This Feels Like Kentucky!"
But wrong-er! It's a rollable bouquet
of croquet wickets--100% wrong--unlike
you, the golden goats, golden goats.
Golden goats, Mortimer Penis has his eye
on you. So whatcha gonna do, Sloatsburg?
Whatcha gonna do, gonad? (The gonad
is the period of this poem.)
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