The Pointlessness of Cyclical Revenge
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Apr. 16th, 2005 | 11:01 am
This is a poem. I'm not sure what it's about. It was going to be about love, or maybe sorrow, but my muse punched me in the face when I suggested those topics. God, I hate my muse. He/she is really difficult to deal with, extremely moody. And you cannot argue with him/her. Last time I tried that I was inspired to write a poem about Sanford and Son. It might be the greatest Sanford and Son poem ever written, but who cares? I think this poem will be about justice, or maybe about the pointlessness of cyclical revenge. Yes, that's what this poem is about. It's about the pointlessness of cyclical revenge. And it rhymes.
Later. Love.
Later. Love.
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from:
ectopic_steve
date: Apr. 16th, 2005 07:29 pm (UTC)
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Here it is.
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from:
ascottwhite
date: Apr. 17th, 2005 04:45 am (UTC)
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from:
tourquoise
date: Apr. 17th, 2005 04:30 am (UTC)
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Sheesh!
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from:
ascottwhite
date: Apr. 17th, 2005 04:45 am (UTC)
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from:
karindira
date: Apr. 17th, 2005 08:00 pm (UTC)
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from:
ascottwhite
date: Apr. 17th, 2005 08:04 pm (UTC)
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from:
tourquoise
date: Apr. 18th, 2005 03:25 am (UTC)
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from:
auntie_kim
date: Apr. 18th, 2005 12:05 am (UTC)
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My muse is short, fat and furry, but at least has a sense of humor as a redeeming characteristic.
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from:
tourquoise
date: Apr. 18th, 2005 03:27 am (UTC)
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from:
auntie_kim
date: Apr. 18th, 2005 12:06 am (UTC)
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from:
cathykooyslife
date: Apr. 18th, 2005 03:19 am (UTC)
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from:
ascottwhite
date: Apr. 18th, 2005 01:52 pm (UTC)
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