What Rhymes May Come

Something deep, profound and awesome
From my pen is bound to blossom
If I’m quiet. Then, I’ll type in
What comes out. Just let it ripen.
Patience. Wait it out. Be mellow.
Now it’s green, but when it’s yellow,
Like a chimpanzee I’ll peel
Away the layers to reveal
The phallic fruit that hides within,
Consume it, then throw poop again.
As grapes may raisins be, or wine,
Will soon we pearls see, or swine?
The syntax matters not to me.
My tactic’s this: Just wait and see.


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