THIS IS MY CONFESSION,
IT’S ABOUT MY OBSESSION,
WITH WORDS.
ABSURD I KNOW BUT THIS IS HOW IT IS,
I KEEP MY DICTIONARY UNDER MY PILLOW,
SO I CAN FIND THE RIGHT LINES,
FOR NIGHT RHYMES.
A RHYMING ADVENTURE
SOME SAY A POETICAL PIRATE,
IM NOT RE— MINDING THE PsS IN THE Q AND I’M SM SEARCHING,
FOR TWO LITTLE THINGS THAT MEAN SOMETHING TO ME.
SOUNDS SALIVATING AND I’M PROCRASTINATING MY REASONS FOR THIS.
A LOVELY LULLABY NO, WOMAN TO CRY OVER THIS.
DREAMING ABOUT THE LOVE FOR CONFECTION CONFETTI,
MY DAYS BEING PETTY WITH THE ALPHA SPAGHETTI.
THE REMORSE WAS NOT FINDING THE Bs’S IN THE SAUCE,
AND I’M ON COURSE WITH A LYRICAL LIBIDO,
SPELLING MY WAY UNTIL THIS DAY.
THEN PUTTING MY REAL EYES IN
AND WAITING FOR THE VISION OF YOUTH.
THE TRUTH HURTS AND
THESE ARE THE WEAPONS OF CLASS DESTRUCTION,
BI LINGUAL BUBBLES BLOW THIS SHIP FORWARD,
NO SITUATION, NO PUNCTUATION, NO CLARIFICATION.
LETS LOOK AT THE SMALL PICTURE;
LETS WORK AROUND THE DETAIL.
COULDN’T WE JUST SAIL AWAY UNTIL TOMORROW?
LETS SELL THE SEVEN Cs.’S
WHEN YOU ADD IT ALL UP THERE IS NOT A SENNTENCE TO SURF ON,
THERES NOTHING GRAND ABOUT GRAMMAR,
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE WORDS IN THE WRONG PLACE.
LETS FACE IT I’M LOVING THE ILL — LIT TERROR SEA,
FOR ME IT’S OK COS I’VE GOT A VOCAL UMBRELLA
AND THAT’S GOOD FOR THIS FELLA.
AND IT’S VERBAL PROTECTION FOR ME, SO
AS I SHARPEN MY TONGUE FOR A SPEECH NOT OUTSPOKEN,
BEING TOTALLY TWISTED WITH BRANCHES ALL BROKEN.
THE SENTENCING STIGMA S TO DROWN OUT THE DYSLEXIC,
AS THE CURTAINS CLOSE AND IM CUTTING THE COST,
I TAKE TIME IN MY RHYME COS WORDS ARE ALL I HAVE LEFT,
WHEN THE MEANING IS LOST.
SO AS I RETURN FROM THIS VIRTUAL JOURNEY VIRTUOSO,
THERE’S JUST YOU AND ME READING THIS,
IN A SUSPENDED SPLURGE OF SPONTANEITY.
I CAN HONESTLY SAY THAT IT MIGHT COST ME MY POETICAL LICENCSE,
BUT WHEN WORDS DRIVE THE PASSION AND THESE LINES RAISE A SMILE,
MY REGRESSION OBSESSION I’M NOW LOGO-PHFILE.
