Poetically speaking, rhyme tends to bore me...

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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

Website: http://inntune7.wixsite.com/rjwilliams