My Room

Posted: June 14, 1987 in Poetry

My room is a mess
I must confess
That I’ve been blessed
With this test
Of my patience
On the permutations
Of the conflagrations
And the implications
Of not cleaning my floor
It’ll spill out the door
I’ll give it all to the poor
And they’ll still want more
Of my junk
And I’ll go dunk
Myself in funk
Then I will have slunk
Through a corridor
‘Crost a moonlit shore
Rotten to the core
I must be a bore
With all this crap
In a wannabe rap
Give me a slap
So I don’t take a nap
Instead of cleaning my room
From impending doom
Which will now loom
In a cloud of gloom
I should just get dynamite and make it all go kaboom!

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