frog-gigging froglegs assassination Poems and Poetry

Louis B. Toads-
worth shuts
the front door

behind him
in the cool
eagerness of morning,

to witness

President Chester Frogg--
expert on bog affairs
and beloved smoocher

of tadpoles--
splayed out on his
lilypad,

mouth slung open
and long sticky tongue
stretched to the side,

a thirty foot spear
planted between his
black overcoat

and a thin stream of red
flowing from his heart,
draining off the pad

into the swamp.

Not only that, but
between his long
rubbery legs,

guilty like a smoking
gun,
rests President Frogg's

fogged-up crackpipe.