Poetry star

 

I’m through with standing in line to slams I’m never getting in,

Feel like it’s half way through the night and I’m never gonna win,

My poetry writing isn’t going exactly the way I imagined it to be,

I wanted a best selling book with a great big title picture of me,

I would have bought a brand new house with a huge writing room,

With a hot tub with space for ten people plus a personalised flume,

Of course I would need a credit card from Barclays bank with no limit,

And a big black tour bus with an on suite bedroom and television in it,

I was going to swop this life for one full of public reading and fame,

I would have grown my hair and wrote under my alternative name,

We all want to be big poetry stars that drive round in electric cars,

Drinking whiskey in the coolest bars holding the world’s finest cigars,

When the words flow easily and rhymes freely enter our open minds,

What a life it would be to become one of those rare poetry star finds,

I would love to be like Pam Ayres without her distinctive Berkshire accent,

Or wealthy like Lord Byron with looks which were reportedly heaven sent,

Then I would hire bodyguards when my hoards of fans get to much for me,

I’m going to write rude poetry that offends every censors to keep it edgy,

Sell my soul to the devil to stay famous and let new writers do my work,

We all want a life of fortune with everything we desire and act like a jerk,

Well we all want to be big poetry stars that get everything we wish for,

Instead of respect for our unique prose from friends and feet on the floor.

 

               

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