Pedantic Satiation
Whereas, my father told me a poem has to rhyme,
And all else is nonsense,
Whereas, last year’s day planner is no longer useful,
That’s planned obsolescence,
Whereas, I’ve been reading advanced books on solipsism,
I’m the smartest person I know,
Whereas, poems should include some form of imagery,
A shriveled dead flower in the snow,
Whereas, I don’t like talking about soccer player Jermaine Jones,
That is, of course, unless he’s relevant,
Whereas, the joke gift exchange awkwardly failed,
That in the room? It’s a white elephant,
Whereas, I failed a class because I was always sleeping,
But I aced the rest,
Whereas, involuntary manslaughter can be hilarious,
Just put a space after “s”,
Whereas, I assume near rhymes count,
But I’m afraid to ask,
Whereas, my truck driver uncle got a ticket for going 62 in a 55, or maybe it was 63,
Either way, he was only going semi-fast,
Now, therefore, then, I shall declare:
Poems don’t have to rhyme, dad,
So there ya go.
