04-23-2016, 06:36 PM
Playing Catch-Up is a Bastard:
They stipulated thirty poems
in thirty days and gave me many ways
and forms to use. Daily topics
to abuse; nothing too serious you mind.
the genre could be any kind; I joked
and pissed about with mine.
I'd kept up really well and hit the tenth;
all swell, and puffed with poets pried.
I missed the twelfth night like Viola
and so employed a poem about some African
disease they spread on CNN.
Nights twenty one through twenty three
I missed; no I wasn't roaring pissed,
just busy getting on with other shit.
To hit the writers wall would be a great excuse.
Milo wouldn't let it wash; he'd call me out,
point his picky little stick for all
to see me blush and in admission tell
how I had lost my way and now played catch up
once again.
They stipulated thirty poems
in thirty days and gave me many ways
and forms to use. Daily topics
to abuse; nothing too serious you mind.
the genre could be any kind; I joked
and pissed about with mine.
I'd kept up really well and hit the tenth;
all swell, and puffed with poets pried.
I missed the twelfth night like Viola
and so employed a poem about some African
disease they spread on CNN.
Nights twenty one through twenty three
I missed; no I wasn't roaring pissed,
just busy getting on with other shit.
To hit the writers wall would be a great excuse.
Milo wouldn't let it wash; he'd call me out,
point his picky little stick for all
to see me blush and in admission tell
how I had lost my way and now played catch up
once again.