BEAT ME DADDY– 13 TO THE BAR or PRAISE SLITHERS A ONE-WAY STREET THUS FAR

“Lord, why’s all of fickle LIFE this persistent scramble?”

“It is written…in the constitution’s preamble!”

“Heathens’ roll call lists females, Arabs, and freed up minds.”

“Heritage, bigotry, isolation–all that blinds.”

Forced conversation with a power so divine, supreme–

Wilts, defeats, seldom ever fulfills.  Much rather scream!

Measured syllables, sans internal rhyme, squash free verse.

As their sing-song tantalizes, “hang-loose” poets curse.

“Hey, Babe, dry up, be silent, quietly disappear.

Prior to exiting, kiss Pretense’s f*cked up rear.”

“Sorry, I babbled achingly soulful poetry

Expectant of overdue response.  I paid no fee.”

“Mental stability questioned.  Dunno my meaning?”

“Truthfully, the age-old terror lay in your leaning.”

“What is your expectation?  Forgiveness I implore.”

Quoth those gods who preen, suffocate, trample: “Nevermore.”

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