Sunday, January 22, 2017

2.1725 : 1/22/10 : Convention

Try hard to break with convention
find I shake at just the mention
of things I said I was stronger than
the dumb lack of a longer plan
I only want to loosen up
believe in the o'erflowing cup
the way things are it seems more awful
Who dies while I stuff my craw full
my lines plod like an organ's grind
and always too much in my mind
it's my convention to dwell on it
I'd love to wale like hell on wit
and rhetoric slogans and cant
but my own concrete hightops daunt
and I succumb to one last turn
convention's wheel: I pull the lynch pin

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