Yes I know it's spelled checker,
That's the way my dysfunctional spelt it.
Where boys will be boys.
Some men still need their guns,
It's they that should be shot,
Each and everyone.
Then again no need to feel to blue,
I know I have a soul.
I found it in my shoe,
That tend to do the laces up,
On a lost and broken heart.
Although to all I try to be kind.
I feel that I am lost,
In the tributaries of my mind.
And though it seems strange to be,
My spell chequer doesn't agree with me,
Let alone Alexa or the wife.
The cut that hurts the deepest,
Is a paper one,
Not the stabbing of a knife.
The talent of my mind,
Seems to be a forever expanding wealth.
Why not stick it in a jar,
Before it starts to decline.
Then put it back upon the shelf.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 134 times
Written on 2022-09-03 at 01:29
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That's the way my dysfunctional spelt it.
Who needs a spell chequer anyway
Why was I brought into a world,Where boys will be boys.
Some men still need their guns,
It's they that should be shot,
Each and everyone.
Then again no need to feel to blue,
I know I have a soul.
I found it in my shoe,
That tend to do the laces up,
On a lost and broken heart.
Although to all I try to be kind.
I feel that I am lost,
In the tributaries of my mind.
And though it seems strange to be,
My spell chequer doesn't agree with me,
Let alone Alexa or the wife.
The cut that hurts the deepest,
Is a paper one,
Not the stabbing of a knife.
The talent of my mind,
Seems to be a forever expanding wealth.
Why not stick it in a jar,
Before it starts to decline.
Then put it back upon the shelf.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 134 times
Written on 2022-09-03 at 01:29
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
