Thursday, 20 December 2012

distraught draught

dilly-dally, dilly-dally,
daily subroutines;
the one who sicks when socks are off and eats salty saltines.

wishy-washy, wishy-washy,
willing all the time;
that random assonances will perchance end up in rhyme.

so distraught, this dapper dude, disposed of with despair,
that one might think there's nothing left to tinker with up there;
not 'bove his head! but in it's stead, with solemn, sultry meat,
of what he thinks, no, nothing else, but sickly sorrow sweet.

sit sipping sixpence worth of sap, or spirit, cider'd sleet,
intoxicating his last breath, indeed in need of heat;
though of that naught, and not too soon! this naughty nincompoop,
inebriated to last breath, and doing loop-the-loop.

in mind, in soul, in body, too, makes silly boys worries,
for fishing with foul female wiles, for fscking fantasies!
but coyly coated christmas trees, made cuter with cutpurse,
emotional - not coin or dew - ends up not care'd done worse.

pitter-patter, pitter patter,
petty monsoon rains,
which wish away with willowed wanes these ache'd and wicked pains.

for all to see, and none to know, the tired curse of court,
this dapper man sits in his words and sips the distraught draught.

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