And dont call
again, another day.
Im working at the
Hard at work, slaving away,
Making the money you cant
afford to pay.
Publisher, publisher, please go away,
I wont fall for another money scheme.
I have mountains of copies and piles of
I wont pay you to not market for me.
The moneys dried up, you see.
I have a wedding to plan and bills to pay,
I dont have time for you to bother me all day.
Publisher, Publisher, please go away.
Please stop calling, please leave me be.
I have no story, its unfinished and boring,
And it wont be yours when the pages are clean.
So please, publisher, publisher, go
away, and don't call again,
When did crude become eloquent,
Crass become unique
And vulgarity become beauty?
What is a name?
When borders blur like smudges on chalk boards,
He is her,
She is him,
We are you,
And you are not blameless,
When judged by more than that which we define ourselves as.
Whats in a name?
When defined, we defy
What lies next to our thesauruses?
It’s changed so frequently,
Typos in societies context,
Sue becomes Mary,
Mary becomes Glenda,
And Glenda becomes famous.
When the name has been used up
And tossed away,
Does it remain true to oneself.
If you are your own definition
No matter what they say you are,
Are you still defined?
Or merely rolling down the pages
Until Glenda arrives?
Then, who are you to define yourself?
Others are greater than the mere you.
When does majority not rule?
A food’s thought ends at a luncheon ajourned.
Am I still me?
And will your proclamations ever prove otherwise?