Buddy, can you spare a rhyme?
I don't have a blank cheque,Just a frigid blank page,
And the back of my sweating neck
Is raw from my silent rage,
My word account is in the red,
My passbook is stamped 'Withdrawn',
I have a business plan in my head,
But my accountant looks forlorn,
For all my stock is old hat he says,
I'm still churning out forgettable crap,
But how do you change the wordy ways
Of a nice but old fashioned chap?
I know, I'll seek a new and hip lender,
Someone versed in rebranding has-beens,
I'll overdraw to bankroll an ice-breaking bender
And show off my couplets in tight-fitting jeans,
I'll try hard to become a performance poet,
I'll do stand-up in trendy public places,
And before my creditors know it
I'll be one of the world's best known faces,
With a voice like that of Mario Lanza,
With a message like that of Leonard Cohen,
I'll change my name by deed poll to 'Stan Za'
And declare to the taxman nothing's owing.
So thank you one and all
For listening to this call,
One from the bottom of my wall-et,
As you can see from my scansion
I'll never live in a mansion,
But I can dream of becoming a world beater,
All I need is some talent to put into my meter,
I mean metre, see what I mean, folks?
Chris Fernie, 2009
Poetry by Chris Fernie
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Written on 2009-06-03 at 00:37
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