They Spoke In Coka Mode

Moody.
Broody.
But open her cage,
Let her go...
And she becomes a hybrid,
Raged!

Subtle cuddled up.
But a buck on a booty.
He had it kind of rough,
Then he smoothed with age.

They both broke quota.
They spoke in coka mode...
Ooo poppa locka booty,
Ooma poppah!

Moody.
Broody.
But open her cage,
Let her go...
And she becomes a hybrid,
Raged!

Subtle cuddled up.
But a buck on a booty.
He had it kind of rough,
Then he smoothed with age.

They both broke quota.
They spoke in coka mode...
Ooo poppa locka booty,
Ooma poppah!

Let her go...
And she becomes a hybrid,
Raged!
He had it kind of rough,
Then he smoothed with age.

They both broke quota.
They spoke in coka mode...
Ooo poppa locka booty,
Ooma poppah!

Ooo poppa locka booty,
Ooma poppah!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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