/to recraft, if not to refind, the thrill of rhyme in poetry, as if it were a sleepwalking happenstance of: déjà vu... coincidentally, in some countries, they'd rather teach memorisation of poems than of soulless mantras in bones without marrow... rhyme as... happenstance, rather than a pedagogical drill, which would wake even Beethoven from the resounding, fading out, echoing... tennis match instead of orchestra phonics... termite lingo, for nothing more than: hello, my name is bob, insignia safety.
yep, went to a Puerto Rican *******,
a Bulgarian, a Romanian
and a Ukrainian...
because... apparently,
all the engliah girls were recovering
from a moral hangover...
or saddled to the baby-sack
aged late teens,
since going to the gym was no fun...
forget about womanising...
walk into a herd of nuns...
and you'll be circumcising
yourself, using nothing more than,
a routine check-up
at your dentists...
******* hybrid chastity belts
those "Rodin" marvels worth
of ****** / dodos and butch Panzzy
wha-wha "boys" in leather
and acne, could become...
and never allow language to succumb
to a poetry with a: death to language
by rhyme...
fluid as god's given amber (beer)
and ambrosia (milk)....
that spontaneity of rhyme that's,
actually rare to find...
unless I interrupt the narrative,
don't give me 2 x 2 = 4
with roses are dead,
violation of the blue rule:
rhyme in poetry, in reality,
is like a *** note...
easier toying with "arithmetic"
in puzzle...
or rather: women sooner remember
kindergarten rhymes...
no wonder, antagonism
of St. Thomas' gospel...
at Hel, a curvature,
and dead end...
i am apparently to
be bound to despair...
sieving lies like ****
through the regurgitating gobs
of flies...
plenty of leprechauns
dancing the jiggle in the pope's
2nd take on a soupbowl;
should he ever mind to retire
into clemency,
from the bombast and opulence
of peacocking perched,
prior to...
a "necessary" memory of
ancient Egypt,
translated into a framework
of erasing today, and conjuring up
tomorrow.
