Are you listening subconconcious? Is there anybody there?
The word processors fired up and I’m sitting in my chair
Eager fingers at the keyboard but I don’t know what to write.
Rustle up some inspiration, make it crisp and erudite.
That request was put in hours ago, my patience has run out.
I’m coming to suspect that you don’t know what you’re about.
I’m starting off without you. No more waiting. What’s the point?
I’ll write a masterpiece and won’t YOUR nose be out of joint.
From what I’m told, the thing to do is simply start to type
And although at the beginning it’s a right old load of tripe
Some alchemy soon forms it into phrases apt and sweet
That set hardened lit’ry critics in obeisance at your feet.
So here goes! Hang on to your hat!
There was a young lady from Patea
Who was built like at a bus at the rear.
On that rump, feminine,
Was a ‘Save the Whales’ sign
And an advert for ‘Lion Red’ beer.
Not quite Keats or Shelley ya reckon?