Songs to Setirov.


Ballade on Those Who Think Books Should be Filled With Their Own Face.
January 23, 2013, 11:53 am
Filed under: ballade, lyric, poetry, satire | Tags: , , ,

I see that you have posted, yet again
A blurry photograph of your buttocks.
And said ‘if u dun like ur not mi frend.’
A pox on my repeating that, a pox!
Did you not see the word, up in the box
Clicked to inflict this pain, that said ‘What’s new?’
Then why do you yesterday’s post Xerox?
I neither like your status, nor like you.

You pester me with pictures of your chest.
You plague me with your feuding with your ‘gurls.’
Did no one teach you that you should get dressed
Before you venture out into the world?
You purse your lips. My lip, madam, is curled
Revulsed at all the idiocy you spew.
That face you make makes you look like a squirrel.
I neither like your status, nor like you.

Throughout the ages, man has reached for man,
To find someone to call him ‘not alone,’
To seek another mind to understand.
So he invented writing, telephone,
Diplomacy, etc. Enthroned
O’er all of these, a worldwide network. Do
You see nothing on it but your hormones?
I neither like your status, nor like you.

Princess of fools, a thousand thousand cats
You send me daily. I can post things too:
Like this rhyme, let us see who will like that,
And if they like your status, or like you.

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1 Comment so far
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LOL!!!

Comment by evilsquirrel13




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