Southern Brooklyn

Unplowed Poetry: A Question To Bloomie

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Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! I introduce to you the Bard of Bungle, the Minstrel of Malfeasance, the Dilettante of Dissent… nolastname!

Up late last night, and truly feeling the winter of her discontent, nolastname penned the following poem in tribute to the many neighbors so similarly screwed by the city this week. Nolastname has asked me to point out that she does “not even attempt to think I have writing abilities,” but I only bother passing that along because it makes the following all that more impressive.

And with no further ado…

“A Question to Bloomie”

People driving around looking for a spot,
Folks shoveling themselves out.

A Mayor who is worth squat
Has people wearing a pout.

When did it begin,
What will we do?

This treatment is a sin,
Politicians sniffing glue.

The blame is the big spot,
Control has been done, not!

All there is is “We.”
How can that be?
A question to Bloomie.


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