poem of publets

[Bunx]

My poem for publets,
and all the nublets
that happen to be reading,
seeding or feeding the
hungry of the mind.

nublets please, listen close
for though i tend to hear the most
random things in an afternoon.
it doesn't mean one still can not
play near the moon.

piglets come here and close.
you may die tomorrow, but
to your end, we shall brost.
with beer and your body of coarse.
at least some can die,
without the thoughts of remorse.

remorse, feel me now. for
thou art everything that you are now.
i can feel you or i can die
like a pig. or the moon can be
like guiding light till the end.