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The Trials of Post Modernity When You're Just Not Interested

I tried to deconstruct a bloody sonnet

to get da dum da dum out of my head

I made a sandwich, put some pickles on it

and listened to a bit of Grateful Dead…


I don’t think I will meet the ultimatum

to break it down or quit this form abuse

I’ll take these female endings, alternate ‘em

with plain old male and see what they produce.


Well look, it seems this sonnet’s half a ballad

I ought to call it something new, I guess.

Let’s see, is it a bonnet or a salad?

Whatever, it’s just pure iambic stress.


The couplet’s here, it’s my last chance to do it

Oh bugger me, it’s ended and I blew it.

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