Armand Poetry

Welcome to Armand Poetry. The poems (and other words) here are composed for my own thought and amusement. Comment and discussion are welcome. -Amore, Armand-

Saturday, January 29, 2005

Make It A Clean Flight! No Hitting Below The Beltway!

The bell has rung!

Deep in the bowels of the Gipper,
All is not well.

Are you slipping on the winter mix
of snow and freezing rain?
Or are you loosing your grip on the
Teflon that you once admired?

In another time, the bases are loaded.
Your RBIs, ERAs, and RDXs no longer watched
by an evil umpire. The count is full,
the stakes are high, the pun is bad.

After the game, there will be time to party.
Time to pucca, time to check in,
To receive, store, ship, produce, renovate
and demilitarize conventional ammuntion
and related components.

At least now you are grinning ;)


  • At 7:31 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…


    Well at 11 PM you brought a smile to my face. Where did you ever pick up on all the acronyms! You must listen almost as much as I talk! In any case Matthew thank you.


  • At 11:23 PM, Blogger gordon said…

    so maybe it's beyond my ken and not aimed at me anyway, but the Reaganesque gridiron Gipperspeak does not mix metaphorically well with the baseball allusions.


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