Drinking from my urn

I own a blender. Da-dah!
A blender of unique design,
And cleverly fold
None other could be enthroned
To lord it over me.

The blender starts to boast:
I cremate you into dewdrops
I pound you into paste.

I am the proudest star
My cap I have a star,
My prize is you will be,
My cap-pe'e-ably proud

You slaver slop in my whisk

You niblets of mayoniche,
You run my cheese up a creek
When I start my zoom

I have a sneaky trick,
I have a habit of grist,
In drinking from my urn,
You better 'scuse me, sir,
Flush out yuself with the Jorg
When I slash my button

     
Copyright © 2021 Poetry of the Machine

This is AI generated poetry.