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deepundergroundpoetry.com
If You Come First, Just Clean Up While You Wait – Sonnet Forty-Two
In words that never seem to write themselves,
I bandy like a boy who tries to win
His way in girlie pants where wonder delves,
Buts quells with swiftest slap before he’s in.
It always happens when I rush to meet
This self-inflicted drama of my clock
I could be calling out for things to eat,
Or on the sofa playing with my cock.
But no, a “poet’s” what I have to be,
Who plays with words instead of jerking off,
I’m sure they’re those who rather play to see
The which came first: the sonnet or the toss?
So, shoot me if I’m come a little late,
If you come first, just clean up while you wait.
I bandy like a boy who tries to win
His way in girlie pants where wonder delves,
Buts quells with swiftest slap before he’s in.
It always happens when I rush to meet
This self-inflicted drama of my clock
I could be calling out for things to eat,
Or on the sofa playing with my cock.
But no, a “poet’s” what I have to be,
Who plays with words instead of jerking off,
I’m sure they’re those who rather play to see
The which came first: the sonnet or the toss?
So, shoot me if I’m come a little late,
If you come first, just clean up while you wait.
Published 12th Jun 2019
Author's Note
Sometimes it doesn’t have to say anything...
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