Rusty runs the comminutor,
A kid who grew up with no tutor.
Thrilled with the scatological:
“God uses it ALL - that’s all too logical!”
Chuckle and loosen your belt buckle,
He’s wealthier now than your rich uncle.
Between errands and jobs - his first:
The solid waste must be dispersed.
“Hey Rusty,” his radio cracks,
“You’re needed up front: check the grate racks.”
From the seat of his stool he springs,
Tools to loosen the clog he brings.
It’s a steady job the world over; paid
Regular pay plus overtime, it’s made
Rusty realize the importance
Of work done well - an inheritance
To partake in the noble and great:
“Ora et labora” from eight until eight.
It’s true he’s not the most learned,
But believes to be the most blessed.
Working for the Lord’s glory; next the boss;
He’s never doubted who’s carried the bigger Cross.
Gary Edward Geraci
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Author:
Gary Edward Geraci (
Offline) - Published: July 28th, 2018 10:51
- Comment from author about the poem: The meaning of the poem hinges on one’s understanding of the word “comminutor” and it’s enjoyment, in the subtle innuendos scattered throughout.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 53
Offline)
Comments1
Someone's got to do it, I suppose. Then we may add 'Just don't let it be me!'
Ha ha. Took me a while to get back to this one. Thanks O.
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