Bottle of Soapy Frogs
Crack frogs sitting in the bottle,
got nowhere to go in a soapy throttle,
dreaming of freedom and loving the lie,
of a madness mind that has the time,
to make them real these soapy frogs,
crammed in the bottle instead of logs.
Leaping at the edges to describe a moment,
these frogs state the state of abstract comment,
jumping at the edges all together swimming,
round and round with an end the beginning,
mad and high and looking to ply,
a trade of insanity to giggle the blind.
Simple a pleasure they represent onsets,
of somewhere else in sideways contexts,
croaking in the bottle these amphibian whelps,
supercharged belting they hope it helps,
to ease the day and loose tired nods,
this crack filled bottle of soapy frogs.
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