the rumor of the tumor is a humor

here's Raynor.
lived in Bangor.
aged thirty-four.
bachelor.
son of a mayor
named Tudor,
and Rigmor
who is a doctor.
truly misdemeanor
since minor
until forevermore:

when he's four,
never did a house chore,
so lazy on labor;

confronted his mentor
who is a terror -
"if 'either' has 'or',
and 'netiher' has 'nor'
so therefore,
'whether' should've 'wor'!"
he was sent outdoor
to the guidance counselor;

sung like tenor
songs of Commodore.
his voice abhor,
it causes tremor.

teased the fish vendor -
"you smelled like a condor
soaked in Knorr
what an awful odor!";

kicked the janitor
cleaning the corridor.
beat him with an oar
like a wild boar;

pulled the respirator
of the sick councilor
needing blood donor;

bangin' some whore,
always score
with the girl next door,
like they're his paramour;

in the court of emperor
he asked the juror,
"your
honor,
are you the Mighty Thor?";

in the department store
he stole twenty-four
bottles of Emperador;

he killed a sculptor
using a razor.
buried him in shore;

stabbed an inspector
with a pair of scissor.
blood on the dance floor.
what a horror!


from the backdoor
now came Gilmore,
the town's oppressor.
he's tired of Raynor
becoming major-major.
enough with the glamor,
pulled out his Claymore.
stuck into Raynor
who wore
no armor.
he became sore.
red is the blood's color.

without amour,
Gilmore
spoke to Raynor
"You found what you're
looking for.
must've done this before.
now you shit no more!"


the rumor
of the tumor
is a humor.
that is the end of the MADORPAKOR!



"the Filipino is what blogging for?"

--peso--