(no subject)

Long ago I discovered the perfect rhymeset, but was never able to find a good idea for a poem for it. I still haven't but I'm tired of waiting. I give the world:

Of Daisies and the Grave

One day I read-tell of a place, in a mad periodical,
Where everyone, so it alleged, must end up eventually,
By ship, raft or boat, baggy pants or by other means nautical,
By plan or by chance or by birth, by force or consensually.

Overcome, I bought gum and I counted to five and then ten, chewily.
Reading news as important as that tends to make me methodical.
Once I'd swallowed, resuming, I nearly fell off of my bench (you will e-
Licit the why from the sestet. Beware, it's erotical.)

It turns out Our Lord Jesus Christ had escaped from Gethsemane,
And fled to an island so lush that the water tastes lemony,
At which he'd gone nudist and started a startling hegemony
Of carefully organized love between man and anemone.

He employs his connections Above to send souls at the holy-edge
(AKA point of death) to his island of fornicant foliage.