This is a study in rhyming,
I think I’ve impeccable timing.
I’ve now got all day, and some things here to say,
So sit down now, and hear the words chiming.
Some rhymes sound forced and uncouth,
Consequently some words are unused.
Imperfect is something I try to abstain from.
Since critics consider it obtuse.
Of form, I may know just a little.
And rhyming I’ve not quite perfected.
Some lines reach the end,
They turn stanza’s bend,
And then they don’t rhyme at all no matter what I do so give me a break.
I mentioned form once in the past,
Should have known it was too good to last,
Since cadence takes thought,
Some planning, some not,
I will leave the fine rhythms to the rest.
Now free form is somewhat more simple,
At least some might agree on that point,
Since where rhyme scheme concerns,
And cadence returns,
A message is more difficult to convey
You can’t truly express yourself when you’re boxed up because
I just don’t think it’s right – to shut up an imagination in a pen of rhymes and
Contrived schemes, and paid teams of thieves rummage through our heads and decide that,
They don’t like what we’ve filled it with but in the end we know that
It doesn’t matter what they think because these opinions won’t hold to their rules,
Their limits, their boundaries, their roads and rhymes and lines and lies and suits and ties, and
Tiny people getting into big cars to go to tiny offices to work for huge corporations giving them a
Tiny paycheck to pay enormous taxes set by small minds ignorant of big families struggling in a
small town in a big country
If that’s too exhausting to read and write,
better stick with spiteful prose.
It’s more the type to let you sneer
And snicker through the nose.
A clever jest, a sideways glance,
A tightened chest, a fortunate chance.
Giving tit for tat.
Satire’s the name,
Mockery’s the game,
Taking fire, giving the same.
A written letter,
Could’ve been said better,
But where’s the fun in that?