Smelly Vengeance

The crackle and whistle of the cheeks on my butt.

Are the soundtrack of the day which away I must put.

Yet when I archive it, you say I’m low class.

But what level of poetry will YOU ever amass?

Because when the pen lays flat, and this may sound a bit crass.

They’ll be printing out 50 dollar bills just to wipe up my swass.