My inalienable write

Rhyming poem, broken home

Is that the way you like it?

Free to say, free to stay, its my own way

And you are free to strike it.


But your opinion is your opinion

Its not my driving force

And if you’re racing with your feedback,

Then you’re not my betting horse.


Haiku you, worn out shoe

Dances on the second line

You say you cannot understand Shakespeare

And then you underestimate mine.


I’m happy to be in such high company though,

To be listed with the misunderstood,

But without understanding a word

you would tell me Shakespeare is the greater good.


Your self-centred prerequisite for success?

As you like it? No. Is it bad or is it good?

Is a house any better if when its done

It’s of brick or its of wood?


Your tap and trip on your pyrrhic foot

Your head gets stuck in a stanza

Instead of Rembrandt and Whitely

You’ve watched old episodes of Bonanza


You’re babbling onomatopoeia

You’ve allied all alliteration

You’ve conjured up the rules of men

You’ve blessed creative castration


But not this dog, not on a leash

Nor tied to fence or yards

These defiant will bark at moon and sun

And be their own proud bards.


The tide crashes walls down built by men

To tame the raging sea

And my creation bashes against the rocks

I’ll not let them ever tame me.


So you spin on your Wheel of Fortune 

And circle your coffee shops 

While the book shelf grows like a team of wood

And bushes in a copse


I stand defiant, like a giant

And charge against the rules

And slaughter all the caveats 

And hang them by the fools.












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