I FLEW TO CORNING AND DIED

On today's dark wicked, heated morning,

The churning sky fog was a fear felt warning,

Then, Mr. Tornado Man came here,

He broke my body that I loved dear,

And, moved my bod from Detroit to Corning.

MY TENTATIVE JOB MAKES ME PART OF THE MOB

I have a tentative job,

As a hit-man for a notorious mob,

I won't feel too sad,

For I'll be after the bad,

Who, from gangsters they're attempting to rob.

THE PICKLE SAGA

And the pickle kept on growing,

Numb pickle brain remained unknowing,

After a quick peel,

It became my meal,

I saved some seeds for future sowing.

COPING WITH COVID BLUES

I hear nothing but bad news,

I have the Covid virus blues,

I can only cope, 

By voting out the dope,

With the orange face and short twit fuse.