Da following are some poimz dat Brumby wrote about his runnin adventures.
Brumby haz been toyin wit da more freeform, incoherant formz of poetry
because dat seems like da only kind of poemz people likes to hear in coffee
houses. Brumby once read a poem dat actually rhymed and made sense and
dey splashed me with espresso. Brumby learned his lesson.
Brumby in da sewerz
Dere seemz to be a lot of poop here
And pretty much all over da place
Even on da ceiling
And da grates
Damn, it smell bad in here
Has anyone seen Brumby’s breather?
I think it fell in da poop
Little Human Corp Guard
Brumby is walking
To da corp
A big building
Wit fences and dronez and guards
Like da one on front of Brumby
A little guard
A human guard
He yellin at Brumby to stop
He don’t seem ta realize dat Brumby have long arms
Dat Brumby can grab him
And throw him
Into da electric fence
Why Trolls Pick Their
Have youze ever wondered
Why we troll picks out nozes?
Why we root around in our nostils
Like dere was a pound of gold in there?
Why we never seem ta mind
Rooting around like a freak
Looking all ignorant and such
As if a booger’s just about to leak?
Well da answer to da question is simple
It not complicated in da least
We trollz pick our own nozes
Because YOUR noze is usually out of reach.
It a busy day In da middle of Seattle
And Brumby walkin along
Wit his ice cream
Under sunny skies
In a happy day
A runabout ‘bout clocks him
And though Brumby iz safe
He haz dropped hiz ice-cream!
And his gaze turns to da car
And da little human suit inside
And Brumby grabz the bumper wit one hand
And lifts da car into da sky
And flips it Over And Over And Over
And it stops Spinning on da roof
And da little human inside
Bouncing around like soy in da cup
And Brumby turns around
And walks back
To get more ice cream
While da runabout
Spins into da night