The Last In Line

The Last In Line ( Ultrasonic Sonnetry )
----------------------------------------

Are your royalties that abundant
You can afford to be redundant
With verse bland and uninspired
How original, how tired
Like a balding set of flattened tires
Poeticism parked on cinder blocks
Going nowhere fast and furious
Like backwards spinning hands of clocks
As you recycle the same old format
We see where your head is at
Where the sun refuses to shine

Breaking new ground inside there
But out here,

You're the last in line

Yeah

Would you ever take the risk
To write something vibrant, cutting, brisk
That you label yourself as contemporary
When you are nothing more than short of lazy
It's a joke without a punchline
Like your production line mentality
All the while you bitch and whine
About this poser and that wannabee
Time to look yourself in the mirror
Is this message getting any clearer?
Take it as a sign

It's all in your mind
But out here,

You're the last in line

Listen

You don't have a clue
As to what it means to be a poet
If one bit you in the ass
You wouldn't even know it
Why don't you attempt to write for us
A heartwarming love sonnet
And while your at it, don't be shy
Sit and spin upon it

I don't know what to make of this
I don't know what to make of this
This bee in your bonnet
Please, go write us a sonnet

I don't know what to make of this
I don't know what to make of this
Birds with red wings fill the sky
Please, please, don't you be shy

Take your injection molded plastic beat
Along with your clumsy two left feet
And get off my wavelength

GET OFF OF MY WAVELENGTH

Cuz you were never on it

NO, YOU NEVER WERE ON IT

You simply can't touch the heat of my
Ultrasonic Sonnetry

Quit your cryin' and bitchin'
Get your ass out of the kitchen
If you can't stand the heat of my
Ultrasonic Sonnetry

You're the last in line
It's all in your mind
Please, please, while on your way out
Don't let the door hit your behind

You take great pleasure as you flame
To cover your own attempts so lame
Botched up batch of cookie cutter rhymes
How innovative, how tame
Raping your own work a thousand times
It's a damn ugly shame
What a sham, here the only scam
Is your rise to poetic fame
Guess you thought it was the thought that counts
But now you're caught and it's time to bounce
Your ass back to where you belong

Where you've always been all along
Right back there

Back at the end of the line

You're the last in line