Thursday, 17 April 2014

A Gut Feeling

Hard to swallow Dariusz Piotrowski
When thieving concealing his swag
Not for him a laggard's knapsack
Common or garden burglars bag

Accosted by cops most suspicious
Scene-of-crime too obviously near
Yet No sign of criminal evidence
When frisking his pockets for gear

Misgivings of whiff implication
Frisking pockets producing no clue
Of any wicked intention
Moreover seemed nothing ado

This human vacuum cleaner
Had them fooled with masterful art
No pointers no marks no traces of sparks
Buried treasure it seemed every part

They locked him away for good measure
Should contrition be ready at hand
Cross questions much pressure and probing

up questions time
Moments passed

When groans occurred

Much carping from his cell

Became screaming
panic stations

Painful stomach now giving him hell

At A&E
they X-Rayed him
and found
to their surprise
gold and silver objet d'art

A Pirate’s
treasured prize
the moral of this escapade
If when working
you ingest
acknowledge health and safety
your stomach’s not a chest

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