Ballad: Don't Mess with my Dipstick
©2019, Olan L. Smith
Was not long ago, four years to my recall,
Reality's flip was my dislike,
I complain and explain the world's shortfall,
And the king who leads, a queasy oddball.
Just when the world was getting dire,
I was quite surprised at her dismay,
To see the world flip to meet my desire,
Two worlds caught up in unholy fire.
Now, as reality turns, to my liking,
I read of their dislike of mine,
Of how the world is odd and deceiving,
Of how evil is now good, their upheaving.
Topsy-turvy! They shout out loud
It's not my world, is my hope demise?
Curl up, read a book, rest your head on a cloud,
That should make your mind quite proud.
Don't mess with us, we're the owner of the realm
So, fuck yourself and the crowd,
This is our realm you've overwhelm,
Don't mess with us, while we're at the helm,
So, cuddle up, feel the warmth of Hell,
It's our turn to righten this ship,
And your turn to follow us, read my lips,
"Try as you may, we've cleaned your dipstick."
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poetry"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
