The Mephitic City of Anon

the walls of anon built high and long but
tickle each eye with surprises. the moat's
full of goats, and bodies of bloat and glut,
smut and psoriasis. sweet as a rote,
yet warbling, note the birds of anon do
yell. 'be ye a bell, you suck like hell!!' each
night at two they yark. their green poo like glue
runs down the town walls so what do we preach
from this lesson? the smell, not the yell, (though
it be swell if one wants for no sleep at
two in the morning) is really what blows.
you see, green pee is sweet to me, but shat
splat – barf! yicky and yarf! it sticks to what-
ever it touches. of anon i'm shut.