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![Image for the poem Passé](/images/uploads/poemimages/331549.jpg?1545777298)
Passé
(Did you forget how to use the muscle in your head?)
( a Quatern )
When formulaics are a crime it seems,
To you who dress as poets and pretend.
To feign & then go thru’ the act. That steams!
And then you blink, how dare I to offend.
You spout about you’d rather do freestyle,
When formulaics are a crime it seems.
That’s fine with me, and frankly, all the while
I polish my new trophy till it gleams.
I think it must distract, these lyric schemes.
How do you manage writing anything?
When formulaics are a crime it seems,
It must be painful as your thoughts unstring.
To one-trick ponies, everywhere, I say,
Whenever you awaken from your dreams:
Since when did rhyming schemes become passe’,
When formulaics are a crime it seems?
( a Quatern )
When formulaics are a crime it seems,
To you who dress as poets and pretend.
To feign & then go thru’ the act. That steams!
And then you blink, how dare I to offend.
You spout about you’d rather do freestyle,
When formulaics are a crime it seems.
That’s fine with me, and frankly, all the while
I polish my new trophy till it gleams.
I think it must distract, these lyric schemes.
How do you manage writing anything?
When formulaics are a crime it seems,
It must be painful as your thoughts unstring.
To one-trick ponies, everywhere, I say,
Whenever you awaken from your dreams:
Since when did rhyming schemes become passe’,
When formulaics are a crime it seems?
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