Renegade Rollick

Renegade Rollick

- I -

The Poet is naught but a void

Wherein verbosity flourishes.

Or haven't you heard?

Empty pots make the loudest sound!

The Poem becomes a playground

Of deviant figures of speech; unusual suspects.

Like teens beating around suburban bushes

We were once ragamuffin rejects.

- II -

You shouldn't need anyone else to tell you

When your outer Being shines brilliant

Cause incendiary flare draws moths to its flame.

Such a soul blisters as does the scorching core of Earth's native Sol.

These misuses were self-taught by this tributary thrall of The Muses

Why not flaunt them for others who would benefit from what their art disabuses?

Divorce thy narrowed mind of all those erroneous views

Only then canst thou benefit from nouveau linguistic news...

- III -

As for the average reader

Yous nothin' but a basic BISCH

Whose tracks are always shallow.

Instead: Donne nous de la Différance

Pourquoi? Because for far too long

The proverbial playing field has lain fallow

So get cooking with this kitschy kitchenette set

Or never darken our doorstep again with your shadow!

- IV -

Oh you know what they say:

"He's just a hack!

Thinking he can reinvent the wheel —

The sheer nerve of some people!"


Well then, drink deep of these Ent-draughts little Hobbits

That you may one day grow up to scale

Them Promethean heights yonder way

Where lowbrow repartee, no longer holds sway...

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