Poetically speaking, rhyme tends to bore me...
You don't give a crap
About my Dr. Seuss tongue-twisted burlap
Teeter-totter word ladder nut-sack trap.
I hardly do either,
This one's not for me but you, the believer
In me...that I can do this. Pull it off with rhythmic fever.
You're wrong. Screw this. This isn't fun.
I find more rhythm & purpose when I'm slapping her bun.
If this is torture for you to read, more-so for me to have spun.
I can't get this time spent back,
So wack is this syllable stunt word crack
That my brain, a toaster, is on high with towering bread stack.
Fuck the butter for this burnt toast.
If I may be so bold & boast,
Free-verse is my forte... this is known coast to coast.
Go ahead, throw this penned calamity in the trash.
It's not like I got paid ass or cash
To write a William Carlos Williams plum poem you'll still bash.
Strike it from your saved poems list, if you don't like it.
Throw your hissy-fit but... first... suck my poetic man-tit,
I don't give a shit.
By RJ Williams
From United States