10-07-2013, 02:05 PM
.
A rewrite inspired by Leanna's "How it works on other sites"
Ah…well…yes, I am …uh…sure?
All writers of poems are worthy,
yet, not all that they write…is!
(Heaven forbid, should you
gainsay their claim of having
composed unassailable art,
they then become a volatile Fizz!)
“HOW! DARE! YOU! Criticize my great work of art,
do not you realize it comes from my HEART!?!”
I suppose, yes, that it is true,
unfortunately,
my good fellow
your heart
is,
as poor a writer as you!
[Excuse me (hehe, hehehe) ahem!…I’m sorry?
but…did you say “that” was art?!?
Here then, let me introduce you to
one of my latest farts!
By your teary-eye,
I see that you agree,
it is also “art”,
oui?]
Thus would be my reply,
should I let it, like gas, slip by
(oh so very easily).
I know if I wish to get along that I
should bow and scrape and…Lie!
Yet, I fear, I never learned that,
or any other form of tact,
that would allow me to, or let me act,
like a polished fork-tongued diplomat.
Indubitably. My words do inflame!
Why? Well...
I think my parents are to blame.
(Is that not always the case?
Neglectful parents. Such a shame!)
My social education from them I fear
was very sorely lacking, except
for every now and then…when,
I’d “get a damn good whacking!”
Certainly the topic is not up for debate,
the simple truth is, I was not taut.
Maybe they supposed it a natural thing,
like knowing how to masturbate,
and so decided there was no need for them to educate,
me, about how… I…should — prevaricate,
and from whole cloth learn to — fabricate,
or an others weak wounded egos — placate,
or their pride’s painful sting — abate.
In other words, as society goes,
I am a complete and utter — reprobate!
2013 -Erthona
A rewrite inspired by Leanna's "How it works on other sites"
Ah…well…yes, I am …uh…sure?
All writers of poems are worthy,
yet, not all that they write…is!
(Heaven forbid, should you
gainsay their claim of having
composed unassailable art,
they then become a volatile Fizz!)
“HOW! DARE! YOU! Criticize my great work of art,
do not you realize it comes from my HEART!?!”
I suppose, yes, that it is true,
unfortunately,
my good fellow
your heart
is,
as poor a writer as you!
[Excuse me (hehe, hehehe) ahem!…I’m sorry?
but…did you say “that” was art?!?
Here then, let me introduce you to
one of my latest farts!
By your teary-eye,
I see that you agree,
it is also “art”,
oui?]
Thus would be my reply,
should I let it, like gas, slip by
(oh so very easily).
I know if I wish to get along that I
should bow and scrape and…Lie!
Yet, I fear, I never learned that,
or any other form of tact,
that would allow me to, or let me act,
like a polished fork-tongued diplomat.
Indubitably. My words do inflame!
Why? Well...
I think my parents are to blame.
(Is that not always the case?
Neglectful parents. Such a shame!)
My social education from them I fear
was very sorely lacking, except
for every now and then…when,
I’d “get a damn good whacking!”
Certainly the topic is not up for debate,
the simple truth is, I was not taut.
Maybe they supposed it a natural thing,
like knowing how to masturbate,
and so decided there was no need for them to educate,
me, about how… I…should — prevaricate,
and from whole cloth learn to — fabricate,
or an others weak wounded egos — placate,
or their pride’s painful sting — abate.
In other words, as society goes,
I am a complete and utter — reprobate!
2013 -Erthona
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
