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Short Poem for the Dork

whisky

Boobie inspector
I dont right poems as a rule of thumb,
but I've just had pizza and a coke and rum,
I've sneaked upstairs to go online,
in 2002 I got a parking fine.
That parking intendant was a no good bum,
I'd like to see him squashed by a rugby scrum.
I was going to end the poem on the previous line,
But right here and now seems the logical time.
 
You have a point, tis true:
So much rhyming poetry to rue!
If they weren't often quite so lame
Then we wouldn't think it such a shame.
 
But let us not yet lay the blame
On poets who's couplets sound the same
They try to find their way with wit
Yet end up writing a verbal zit!
 
A verbal zit that must be popped
Just like the feel that's never copped
Memory was helped by their rhyme
Thus it belongs in another time!
 
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