You Are Never Gonna Be Written

Well,

There’s a sliver of night

That says to me, write

However, I gotta worry

About evening’s strange plight

 ‘Cause,

Night is undependable

Unpredictable, and unreliable

It’s the “UnCola” ….it’s liable

To be too soft and pliable

Bending,

My whims and thoughts

Into creepy plots

Making words bend

Into shapes like stinky socks!!!

Curving,

Putrid verse into pockets

The stuff for silly lockets

Words that make me

Want to curse in never-ending “fuck its”. (I would say that’s stretching it a bit)

Praying,

My stanzas don’t get squashed!

Making me wanna get sloshed!

There’s gotta be a muse

Who, like me, looks for that one missing galosh……………………….. (What?)

Then

I start to feel a wee bit warm

An interesting idea begins to form

I’m attracted to its shape

A poem appears, like that! new born

Yet,

That bastard named Revision

Catches me inside his windshield wiper of collision.———…