Now the foot’s on the other shoe
A one-man show for an audience of two
Now the foot’s on the other shoe
A one-man show for an audience of two
More couplets in the guise of rap lyrics given away for nothing on Twitter. Some suck. Some are okay.
Stealing the mail and the Sunday paper
Earning the ire of your fascist neighbor
Staring at the door to the room you sublet
Cleaning scrambled eggs off your diamond bracelet
passable, poseable
instantly disposable
Catalog your fears, catalog your dreams
Catalog what the mailman brings
Some have friendships, some drown in beers
Some have brilliant, heartless careers
Humdrum and parochial
Guileless and colloquial
Today is important, it’s something big
It deserves this very fancy wig
Anger, laughter, oversharing
Are no substitutes for caring
Sniffing glue, eating paste
Sometimes there’s no accounting for taste
You, with the insect eyes and the spider fingers texting
With the face that’s swollen from multiple bee stings
Awash in debt, drowning in pools
Check out our website promotional tools
Ready for what fortune brings
From the many doings of things
Yarn, wiring, hammers, and bones
Milk crates full of rotary phones
Who would want to unfollow me
For sharing little bits of poetry?
IP lawyers scrap and fight
Praying at the altar of copyright
Hands and elbows, knees and feets
Ingesting all the crunchy beats
Angry, scornful, looking askance
At the backup singers with the magic pants
The tourists flock to familiar perches
Photographing all the ruins and churches
Dead-eyed gamblers, low high rollers
The angry screams of fucked-up bowlers
Google Analytics, hot apple pie
Larks’ Tongues In Aspic and curly fries
Sprained tendons, Shattered bone
My favorite flavor of ice cream cone
Like a comfortable chair where nobody sat
A trick pulled from a bad writer’s hat
A while back I did a month’s worth of couplets. It was fun.
I haven’t really done any concentrated poetry writing or anything, but when the mood strikes me, I’ll zip one off to Twitter with the hashtag #RapLyricsFree4Use. I don’t know why I add that hashtag. Okay, I do know why. It’s a way of distancing me from the words I am writing.
I’m writing poetry, people! But If I put that silly hashtag on it, I can say, “Well, it was me just goofing around.” It *is* me goofing around, but I wouldn’t post something I didn’t like or didn’t want other people to see.
Anyways, I did a Twitter search and found some old tweets with this hashtag. A couple I didn’t like at all, so am not including here. I didn’t delete them, so you can go look for the damn things and marvel at the badness.
I was actually surprised by some of the tiny poems. I didn’t remember them. I loved the hard drive full of pig pics. I don’t know that I can ever top that one.
A caramel hammer
A peppermint crow
A scooped-out orange filled with dirty snow
Avoiding every little accusatory look
Erasing eyes from the faces in my history book
A misplaced cup and saucer falls
While humor drips down the coffeehouse walls
Draped in velour
Walking on shag
Wiping your mouth with a dirty rag
Say man, hey, what the hell is it to ya
Making light of all my deeply personal minutiae
I love language
There, I said it
No need to ask this question on Reddit
Some people fight and some have spats
Some argue on the Internet with their cats
Where you were is where you are
Using lighting and makeup to conceal your scar
Every interaction a possible infection
A denial of the chance of human connection
Your old friend’s hard drive’s full of pigs
Gigs and gigs of pics of pigs
Coasting through life, refusing blame
Driving like an asshole in a video game
She only wore shoes with chunky soles
And prized her set of ceremonial bowls
I want my heart to be Sabbath and Led Zeppelin
But it’s always closer to Belle & Sebastian
All the sycophants were on hand
Pretending not to understand
Phenolphthalein, patricide
Unimpeachably country-fried
Sobbing, smiling, running, laughing
Everyone is waiting for exciting things to happen
I don’t believe in the royal we
An’ I always spell gravy with a capital G
Doing the things we most despise
Tweeting little honeypots for bad replies
Is this the end? It came too soon
I never got to use the moon
They were last to arrive at the Homecoming Dance
In glittery shirts and spectacular pants
The blogger tired of writing stuff
People cared, but not enough
Some favor the heart, others the brain
Some like riding on the choo-choo train
The break room had an inspirational poster
A slow-leaking faucet and a brand new toaster
Water! Water! Elixir of life!
66.7% of my wife!
Old Man Rock is such a bore
Selling junk at the gravel store