WE"RE DOING THINGS A LITTLE DIFFERENTLY THIS YEAR

Some people call me a crazy frankensteiner. Let's put a head on this headless:



                                                                                  



Here is my poem, "Skeletron:"

I am the ruler of the earth.
I caused a six-year-old boy mirth.
My foes all rue my day of birth.
9.99 is what I'm worth.

My left arm fires bio-goo.
My spinal rifle does that too.
To school with my boy I flew.
In art he covered me with glue.

My skull-array can auto-aim
still. My evil is my fame
and I'm no different than the day I came,
but my boy is not the same.

He once whined for me at the store.
Now I'm forgotten in a drawer.
It's hard to rule anymore
now that my boy is twenty-four.

Here is my poem, "Mr. Maxwell Trask's Spondaically Monometric Eulogy:"

Long rums
Truck comes
Crash-crumbs
Face-thrums

Wax mask
Max Trask
Glass flask
Black cask