Did He Just Use the Word Effulgence?

Did he just use the
word
effulgence
in a love poem?
Really? Seriously?
Sounds like flatulence
spoiling passionate, love scents.
Not good for romance.
Where was his sense?
A corny, poetic indulgence?
Three drunk gents
walk into a bar
letting fly with
their combustible,
putrid
effluence.
The bartender said,
“Noxious gents,
you need some
Frankincense.
Your stench
is a
capital offense
and you are probably
without any moral sense
just like this (p)-resident.
Oh, such repugnance.
Who’d give
two cents
for any three cabinet stooges’
without ethical elements
and
a lack of magniloquence —
or the (p)-resident’s
third-grade
vocabulary so dense
and his obnoxious, verbose,
multiloquence
and
ego so immense
and
HUGE,
narcissistic
malevolence
raised to new
heights of
anti-eloquence —
his creepy
presence
like so much
efflorescence
creeping through
and coating
the essence
of any presents
a lover would
give his
love — bright
with effulgence.
And there is
that word again —
like
something
icky, sticky and
glutinous.
Like, perchance,
the (p)-resident?
And why does the
(p)-resident always
have this damnable,
ubiquitous, uninvited
presence?
Is it inevitable
that when he thinks of
flatulence,
he’ll automatically
think of the (p)-resident?
The (p)-resident wasn’t asked
to be in any of
these words or sentences.
Did he just use
the word perchance?
Really? Seriously?

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