I opened up my typewriter (it's a travel typewriter in a case) yesterday and found this poem I wrote when I was drunk (probably, that's usually the case when I don't remember things). Here 'tis, it's punctuationless for now but I'm likely to add some in later. Or not if I use them for lyrics.
At seventeen past the hour
Distressed and restlessly polute
This institution asearch for restitution
Arresting Jack's pillow sack
Liberation for liberals and homeless sex criminals
A sea shanty on the windowside
Called out corporated gallywander you're considered
Inspecial
Critical point at fault
Disappointed yet not anointed on the altar
Sad sack of shall he wagger
Suggests lather or rather plaster the attacker