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Miscellaneous / Re: Poetry
« on: June 12, 2012, 05:58:54 pm »
I've got a white pen
It writes white ink
It makes things lighter
Or so I think
I used it on some yellow
That was rather dark
It made it brighter
The contrast was quite stark
But then I looked up from my paper
At the school bus, just arrived,
It seems rather off,
A difference quite contrived
As if someone was pointing out to me
That something was quite wrong
But I went on heedless;
The bus was like that all along.
It was then a drop of red
Fell upon my page
My nose was bleeding on my paper!
I flew into a mental rage
How dare it mess up my paper?
My paper with white ink?
I'll teach that blood a lesson.
Next time, it'll think.
I took my white pen
And I blotted out that red
After that, I looked up,
And saw that everyone looked quite dead.
I shrugged it off;
Humans have always been pallid
I return to my paper,
And see something quite rancid.
There's blue lines all across the page!
Marring the beautiful white!
I know what must be done
To fix this horrible blight.
I whip out my white pen
And run it across the paper
Boustrophedonically,
Like a farming crusader.
I finish up my noble quest,
And look up at the sky
Such a majestic white swath
So pleasing to the eye.
I look and see a tree
Its leaves are green and its bark, too
What kind of tree is that?
So I whiten it up, too.
'Twas then I saw my shoes
They were orange; that couldn't do.
So I took out my white pen.
You know the rest, don't you?
I looked out upon the world,
And saw some purple black
So I went to fix it
My white pen went "snicker-snack"
I looked around once again
And all was white, as it should.
I fell to the ground that day
Get up again? I never could.
They say that after I died,
The world stopped being blank.
I hope they know it's not my fault;
They have my pen to thank.
It writes white ink
It makes things lighter
Or so I think
I used it on some yellow
That was rather dark
It made it brighter
The contrast was quite stark
But then I looked up from my paper
At the school bus, just arrived,
It seems rather off,
A difference quite contrived
As if someone was pointing out to me
That something was quite wrong
But I went on heedless;
The bus was like that all along.
It was then a drop of red
Fell upon my page
My nose was bleeding on my paper!
I flew into a mental rage
How dare it mess up my paper?
My paper with white ink?
I'll teach that blood a lesson.
Next time, it'll think.
I took my white pen
And I blotted out that red
After that, I looked up,
And saw that everyone looked quite dead.
I shrugged it off;
Humans have always been pallid
I return to my paper,
And see something quite rancid.
There's blue lines all across the page!
Marring the beautiful white!
I know what must be done
To fix this horrible blight.
I whip out my white pen
And run it across the paper
Boustrophedonically,
Like a farming crusader.
I finish up my noble quest,
And look up at the sky
Such a majestic white swath
So pleasing to the eye.
I look and see a tree
Its leaves are green and its bark, too
What kind of tree is that?
So I whiten it up, too.
'Twas then I saw my shoes
They were orange; that couldn't do.
So I took out my white pen.
You know the rest, don't you?
I looked out upon the world,
And saw some purple black
So I went to fix it
My white pen went "snicker-snack"
I looked around once again
And all was white, as it should.
I fell to the ground that day
Get up again? I never could.
They say that after I died,
The world stopped being blank.
I hope they know it's not my fault;
They have my pen to thank.