Poem: Lone Skum

by Tim Armour

I like to play a game with names.

Their letters I’ll reshuffle.

Among this exercise’s aims?

To make some feathers ruffle.

I’ll pick a puffed up popinjay

And give his name a jumble.

Sometimes I’ll find a wordplay

That could serve to make him grumble.

Now Elon Musk comes to my mind,

This product of apartheid.

Apparent even to the blind.

It’s hard to make a fart hide.

I mix his name and find Lone Skum.

Now that should knock his smirk off.

In human greed, new depths he plumbs.

This guy’s a total jerk off.

Tim Armour is Creemore’s poet laureate.