Bad taste in my mouth

Beer spilled bodies rumbled
body surfers bodies tumbled
Slight discomfort my body mumbled
(they) kicked my phone my body fumbled

Je déteste de corps surfers
Period

Smells like tuna

It all started with a drifting log,
chased by a lonely lonely dog;
Clearly so like a clearing fog,
I get the hint that its time for me to blog.

And I will write, I will rhyme,
many said, its now my time;
For being so busy - was that a crime?
silence then without a chime.

Problem now: our minds so myopic,
over things not even microscopic;
Hence I'll prove it - I have no topic,
in my mind, a lost unknown tropic.

The designer side of me was just inspired,
in a seminar that got me tired;
Fruit baskets of knowledge I acquired,
from a local designer I admired.
(not in the very gay way or you'll be fired)

Have a guitar then you can pluck,
otherwise you're outta luck;
I found out my life will never suck,
its official: designers can use the word fuck.

Take a bus tour around Great Britain,
to find words that weren't already bitten;
Will never compete the songs so newly written,
For my dear mon amour whom I call kitten.