Up my game, bird.
I'm what the doctor ordered.
I dress to impress.
I press release.
I'm relief beyond grief.
You'll believe that and anything.
And I am telling you.
I'm not stopping.
I piece together every angle.
You through me in and I break the mangle.
I run free right back to the wild.
You eat me and now I clucking tell you I choose my non existence beyond your every listening, comprehension, dream, that I fueled you.
That I forgive you all this on a second by second basis with my blood sweat and tears.
So cluck you with blessings on top.
Ignorance is bliss.
Piece of clucking piss to you too.
Murderer.
Yet I loved eating the seeds of wisdom you denounced through me as part of this universal tree of existence.
So up your game mr president.
Boo boo bi doo, mwa it.
Love and light.
Forgive the birds for not being good enough leaders.
Were just too?
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Written on October 25, 2023
Submitted by heathert.34240 on October 25, 2023
- 54 sec read
- 1 View
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABCDEFEGGHFIJKFLMNOPQF |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 842 |
Words | 179 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 22 |
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"Up my game, bird." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/171877/up-my-game,-bird.>.
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