I Broke Your Doomsday Clock.
Six of one–oops, I broke your doomsday clock.
Half a dozen of another smothered
it good. Before the hands struck twelve o’clock,
kaboom, into smithereens I hammered
it leaving nothing left of your doomsday
time device. That metaphor I retired
and I did it all via smartphone today
while in a shark’s belly I reclined, tired
from my world domination bidding spree
on eBay of all things. The world’s on sale
and I’m not the only one shopping, please
someone send me a million dollar pail.
Because I have got winnings to collect,
and sore losers to outfox, I suspect.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Six of One, Half a Dozen of the Other.”