Act II
©2001Jerell Lambert
Saved
I sing  I sin

My sign  I singe

My ting is tin

My tine sends a tinge

Hear the ding

What a din

While I dine in my

Dinghy with 

Bing.

It's been benign

Not a binge.

It's sin I spin with

Gin with a

Grin 'til the grime smells like

Ginger who

Pings for my pin and

Pines for my plunge

For a

Fin she's a

Friend. It's

Fine on the

Fringe where I

Ring on the

Rim of her

Mind with a

Syringe

'til I

Fling a

Fridge or

Cling to

Kin whose

Kind do

Cringe when

Men mine melange.

Still

Whining winches

Wing  Zing  Zen and

Singing signs send

Soul Amends

To

Scent the

Subset

Singh-Singh

Saviors

Surely sensing

Sons to

Save from

Din tinged

Bingeing

Ravaged

Savage

Shining

Waves of

Sin.