Poetry Blues

[milo]

Poetry Blues (Song)

I don't care no more
about your metaphor.
You can take your sonnets
stand up and roar.
Keep your rhymes 
enjambed in lines
set them on fire.

I don't like the disdain
in your dizain.
You can take your haiku
and throw them away
with the blossom trees
in the springtime breeze
shed your bloom and fade.

Now your rondelet seems to say
that I'm the only thistle
in your garden of delight.
And your villanelle is trying to tell
the world that I'm the bushel
which sat on your dazzling light.

No I don't wanna trip
on your cryptic ways.
Your turn is alarming
your tongue is ablaze.
Paradox as it seems
I burst at the dreams
for your allusion.

I can't see the rose
in your prose.
You can take your sestina
and stick it where it snows.
Our syllables are stressed,
my vowels are depressed -
I can't stanza anymore.

Well your double dactyls deride
the personification
of my clumsy feet
and your cynical cinquains sing
of my dissonant cliché
stumbling down the street.

Oh I don't care no more
about your metaphor.
You can take your sonnets,
you can take the door.
Iamb but a fool
for you no more
you give me the poetry blues.

lol - this sounds fantastic!  Is that you singing?  You sound maybe 100 years old?  IDK . . .