Saturday, 6 April 2013

Could Be Verse

It ain’t effing poetry,
It’s just effing verse,
It ain’t laureate material
But it could be effing worse.

At least I don’t my words invert
The rhythm make to fit
Or use crass colloquialisms
To rhyme with other shit.

My sentences is grammatical
My punctuations alway’s right
And their ain’t no spling mistakes
In the pottery wot I writes.

My themes is esoterical
My whatsits erudite
My handwriting is… something or other...
In the pottery wot I writes

I never just repeats a phrase
To fill in extra space
In the pottery what I rights
The write word’s the in the rite place.

So maybe it ain’t "literature"
And maybe it ain’t art,
But it ain’t been effing plagiarised
Cos nobody else writes pottery like wot I does.

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