Wally Behind Bars
Writing live from an unknown location (and no not a prison),
Risen out of this prism ready to spill some euphemisms,
Wally is behind bars lit with cigars firing off shooting stars,
So you better keep up and listen to the colloquialisms.
Sit back, have a drink of this ink I think youíll read and maybe like,
Like an open mic night it might just feel right to get up and fight,
But like an empathic telepathic Iíll make a prediction,
Youíre going to leisurely follow me then swallow all my diction.
I know I donít have to rhyme every time I write a simple line,
But my mind finds fine field mines of explosive vocabularies,
Hell I still stutter when I utter the words recalling my prime,
Thumbing through those thesauruses and thick dictionaries.
So lean over and lend me your ear, I fear it may go too fast,
Iíll blast off with a bang, with the band, witness and please take the stand,
Canít hang with the slang? I got news for you, this noose will be too tight,
You may lose and bruise yourself then probably need a helping hand.
Want to get your rocks off? This grammar pops when my hammer drops,
Posting potent pondering poems and pouring portent pulsing prose,
Itíll knock your socks off, the rhythmís hypnotic maybe even erotic,
Titillating and calculating but itís the way I compose.
I grit it and fit it, Iíll stomp through a comp then admit it,
But in the E.R. Iíll still spar, ill with it till I spit it,
The heat on this beat might catch fire I may just lit it,
This bitty ditty is like a quickie when I hit it and quit it.
Written by wallyroo92
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