Writing worth reading
Not knowing what to write, the absence of vision,
Call it lazines, i need some erudite precision.
Realistically I couldn’t improvise indecision
Any better than if my moderator insisted on a latin prescription.
Will I, the greatest, maker of affinity,
falter, fail, bomb apocalyptically,
saunter so sadistically while pilgrims perish near to me…
i was never the humblest of prodigies, come
deliver me from tyranny!
(I honestly could never sleep with prose unwritten on the sheet.)
So I scrawled:
“Cause my slant rhyme is your good time
And my collocation’s your breaths’ vacation,
Yah my short essay is your hit parade
And anyhow, my life is great,”
Pass pass pass pass (ALL: Gimme that sweet sweet P!)
Underhanded, reprimanded, over-eager-beaver-pleaser
Leave it to the master plans. Plans plans plans plans.
I wont put off what you pass down,
I wont hesitate and hit the ground.
I’m in outer space, every evening i’m dreaming
About the girl, by herself, creativity streaming,
With one pen and one paper, gives the whole world new meaning
Cause she’s a gold-mine, yeah better than fine,
With gravitas, elegance, and a box of wine,
Intellectual, yass, and strong as hell,
Rock steady wit, sick moves as well,
I mean not really, she’s a meat-loaf pan
With dance moves as limber as lieutenant dan:
Methodically,
Repeatedly,
Shuffling at the knees,
However unenthused the party seems to be,
but i’m in outer space, every evening dreaming,
The girl by herself, creativity streaming, with one pen and one paper, gives the world true meaning
Trouble is nowhere’s a good place to be found,
The best voices, it seems, always come from the ground,
Everyone everywhere’s already gone down.
Why am i clowning, a kite flying low,
Word count so wimpishly dragging in tow,
She made the case for me, put pen to paper,
Make dolla bills y’all, his name’s don draper, (ALL: that guy Fucks!)
But while he cashed checks i was starting to whimper
Deadline approaching, like some GRRMARTIN winter (ALL: you know nothing john snow)
So i’m punch-happy, fresh-sliced caffeine
And a babka made of methamphetamine,
Writing miles a minute, my whole spirit in it,
Realistically, just wasting ink,
But writing is writing
And whether they find it
Entertaining is besides the fucking point.
“Cause my sarcasm’s your phantasm,
My irony’s your cuppa tea,
My prepositional phrases hit you in special places
And anyhow my life is great”
Pass pass pass pass (ALL: Gimme that sweet sweet P!)
But i’m in outer space, every evening dreaming,
The girl by herself, creativity streaming, with one pen and one paper, creates something worth reading.