Random Poem - The Worlds longest collective work!?

, oh pleasure, it's eyes

 

didn't give a flying fuck

 

but the monkey could still

 

urinate, pounding on the

 

hollow ground like trains from

 

boston, which the monkey loves because

 

of the buildings that tickle

 

but he didn't give a fuck

 

because his bigballs are itching

 

and he didn't care

 

for he had no fore-thought

 

nor even three-thought

 

but that is all two obvious,

 

but had he free-thunk...

 

but negative one thought,

 

for he played triplets over funk

 

ore the giblets of a skunk

 

and the shiver of me timbre

 

in a river full of cinder

 

, passing pyres that can't get higher