Outlaw Poetry Emanates From Yul Brynner's Crotch

I suppose I should write some nonsense here to explain myself. Look, a perfectly ridiculous poem in the outlaw poetry style by Thomas L. Vaultonburg

Pussy And Chicken Wings 

"The job pays 

Primarily 

In pussy and 

Chicken wings," 

He said, 

Motioning towards 

The dancers. 

"Just make sure 

The girls behind 

The bar keep moving 

And no one lays 

Hands on anything 

They haven't paid 

For. 

I don't think women 

Are worth a squirt 

Of piss anywhere 

Except the stock room 

But the customer 

Is always right." 

Then one night 

When I wasn't 

There a jealous 

Husband ball-

Batted him 

To a worthless 

Pulp. 

Right.