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.