If you like it, then my thank is given. If not, cynical laughs are better than nothing.
Crappy Poem #226 (aka "My first attempt at inspired poetry")
for you might be perplexed,
want to understand why I'm hexed,
want to know this stranger to love,
see this curse from above.
married to pain as a nun to her god
married to pain as a nun to her god
why Morrisey has surely said it before,
but I did not rip this from the dizzy whore
in 18 hundred and four.
so hear now this orgy of self-pity:
'twas the girl who first caught me
from whom I ran
as I could not understand
how could I be requited.
'tis the one I adore
yet shall come to nothing more
for her vanity should spite me
and her kindness indict me.
'twas the scorned of the past
I know their pain at last,
what I have done to them
has come back two hundred and twenty-six times
and now haunts these silly rhymes.
'tis what always almost was:
sloshing through the rain under my umbrella
look at this incompetent fella
who let the perfect moment pass on by
hell, he couldn't even keep you dry
and then, and then, there are others
as you might have guessed
But you Miss Pain! You blow them All away!
For you have penetrated my softened heart
and let me sink my face into your bosom one last time
so that others can laugh at this stupid, stupid rhyme
married to pain as a nun to her god
married to pain as a nun to her god
The End
Crappy Poem #226 (aka "My first attempt at inspired poetry")
for you might be perplexed,
want to understand why I'm hexed,
want to know this stranger to love,
see this curse from above.
married to pain as a nun to her god
married to pain as a nun to her god
why Morrisey has surely said it before,
but I did not rip this from the dizzy whore
in 18 hundred and four.
so hear now this orgy of self-pity:
'twas the girl who first caught me
from whom I ran
as I could not understand
how could I be requited.
'tis the one I adore
yet shall come to nothing more
for her vanity should spite me
and her kindness indict me.
'twas the scorned of the past
I know their pain at last,
what I have done to them
has come back two hundred and twenty-six times
and now haunts these silly rhymes.
'tis what always almost was:
sloshing through the rain under my umbrella
look at this incompetent fella
who let the perfect moment pass on by
hell, he couldn't even keep you dry
and then, and then, there are others
as you might have guessed
But you Miss Pain! You blow them All away!
For you have penetrated my softened heart
and let me sink my face into your bosom one last time
so that others can laugh at this stupid, stupid rhyme
married to pain as a nun to her god
married to pain as a nun to her god
The End