MEDIUM DESPERATE PLEA

Fundraiser For Cabbage’s Rowing Club Training Troubled Youth

Tony, I need more money to support my baby brother’s charity!

I grew up with competitive brothers and had to prove I could hang. The third wave of feminism and women’s rights wouldn’t have made it without me. So I need to be in Smillew Rahcuef’s contest because I want a sprinkle of salt on my rice, and the earnings from this might help me afford it.

Admittedly, I’m no Thief, Rui Alves, or Zivah Avraham — Smillew, block them! Maybe they can help me with my skills.

Midnight’s Darkness Poetry

Poetry critics say I have trouble with rhyming and timing.

Expectations set, I’m about to sweat, to get out of debt, with public regret.

Dear Valued ̶s̶c̶a̶m̶ ̶t̶a̶r̶g̶e̶t̶s̶ Donors,

I’m publishing this plea on Medium to break up monotonous tedium while desperately begging for cash.

Baby brother has empty coffers and no legitimate work offers but a really disturbing rash.

His non-profit helps troubled youth struggling with life’s unpleasant truth who need to replenish their stash.

I said, sell them as child-labor they’d make a morsel I could savor he wants to have me restricted.

I’m always kind to Cabbage and real his pathetic emotions, I often feel I’m hardly as bad as depicted.

With additional funds, I’d be back in good graces Just imagine all those noseless, freezing faces ice-rowing frostbite should have been predicted.

The cash? No guarantee I won’t keep it Cabbage is sweet and disgustingly fit far too many want his romance.

I need an edge, a way to win the family’s respect, a way to begin they don’t appreciate Flamenco dance.

Oh Medium, Tony, I don’t mean to swoon but a fistful of cash will earn you a thought balloon all I need is my 14th chance.

I’ll spend your money helping the kids if I find jars, with air-tight lids they’re sneaky escape pirates legitimate.

You’d think they could row and even swim but Cabbage says they hold onto him from trauma of losing homes in a bad climate.

With dollars and gold, I’ll make them rich Ut-oh. Quick, gimmee a word that I can switch to avoid triggers and thoughts intimate.

This is Smillew’s fault — he started a contest I suspect at Roz and Ann’s behest and laughed at Cabbage’s dangling participle.

Wait — I’m supposed to build Smillew an alter made of data, social media, and grins that don’t falter cuz yeah, he’s the East Coast genuine article.

Is this enough horror to prompt King Tony to gimmee some bread for my garlic baloney for frozen kids’ lunches, of only one particle?

shaddup, I know!

I need the money so give it up honey and nobody will get bit.

This poem is quite what you probably might have expected of it.

Total ̶bulls̶h̶i̶t̶ [male bovines defecating in a sublime pastoral setting.]

What do I win?

(Hey! The image of Cabbage is a moving gif with the crown gyrating wildly, seagulls — on a lake — flapping their wings like hummingbirds, and the peacock and ram dancing. I do have a heart!)

Smillew’s right. Lizzie will post practically anything. Um, created by AI. 🤣

Here are the January 31, 2024 deadline contest rules:

Would You Like Tony to Give You More Money? Poetry challenge alert

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Poetry Challenge — Wanting Tony to give us more money

Other short strange stuff by Lizzie Lizard Brain (Tyrant Typist helped)

Tyrant Typist was diagnosed with MS so is entitled to laugh at herself —

Still my favorite short piece