I Can’t Turn the Rhyming Off

Rhythm Lover

–by becky Wtgh

Hello all, I’m in need of assistance

I can’t turn the rhyming off.

I started rhyming, don’t scoff–

This condition has a rather

unnatural persistence.

The rhyme has momentum,

It’s propelling with no resistance

My mind’s gone now, you see

I began writing “poetry”

From dusk to dawn-ing

Open to close-ing

I’m rhyming everything, constantly.

I can’t turn the rhyming off–

Again sir PLEASE, don’t scoff!!

What about this is laughable to you?

Do you think I’d think this way,

Because I so choose?

By the way,

Why do blues singers sing the blues?

Without all the solos,

you would never notice

Their pain, green as chartreuse.

Weeping bodies in plain sight,

Musicians, poets, saints–

Begging us, pleading sympathy.

In order to be understood,

a singer must be fluent in empathy.

Love you, lust you,

Strap a knife on their shoe–

Stab you in the heart

bleed out your soul

Collect you, reduce you, reuse you

And sing it right back, filtered over charcoal.

Smoothe, silky. sweet and soulful.

Kind of like the rhythm in my mind

A rogue blues singer, bleating me blue

Magnificent, mesmerizing–

Permanent and penetrating, her

Rhythm rages relentlessly.

She whispers sweet nothings to me

Between sets, between cities

Rhythm and melody and

Cute little rhymes.

On top of all that–

She never lets me sleep,

She pounds me all night.

She says she hates me–

But I think we’re alright.

Oh, rhyming lover–

needy insecurity is such a bore

Leave my head be,

your rhythm is stuck here–


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