SPELL LOUDLEE

i sit here killing my brain cells

                     cause

i don't  have to zink to drink

inebriated words fall out of my mind

                        like

blood from a vein

being spiflicated enables me

      to disemble

and say what i feel without

                 consequences and repercussions

but I fell up

 to suffer the indignity of words

how dare I

  mispronounce the spelling of a word

    i might as well swear love

  to that money sucking

ball and chain that ran off

with my best friend and my loot

                 whle i sit hear

                             drinking martini's

                                    and mispelling

matador's and see mees

 after all what 's a righter to do

but   cree ate

            a different

                       world vue

Reviews

[Emily B]

Spell it Loud.

Longfellow told us to . . .

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling, 15
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time. 20

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet, 25
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease, 30
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies. . . .