The sun was a brilliant scarlet
Upon the rustling brush,
Redder than a hemorrhoid
Who’s asking out its crush.
Within the brush are little jays,
Their feathers dark and blue
Much like the mood experienced
When one eats eyeball stew.
The birds were eating insects
So tiny and so green
Like little child soldiers
Or polytetrafluoroethylene.
The birds, thus having eaten
Flew off to sunset orange.
Alas, this leaves no conclusive rhyme
But judging by the imagery of previous examples, I doubt you’re disappointed.
The Daily Travesty 