Sunday, 15 April 2012

NaPoWriMo Poem Fourteen: Sonnet

Get up. Grit your teeth and you'll get through
the days of people you respect as much
as pubic fungus ordering what you do
with a fake-friendly shoulder-touch
they learned when they got their certificate
in watching eyes and using visual words
as advised by the Bandler pontificate.
Get used to speaking and not being heard:

it's not so bad when you can think of slicing
the tendons of those who say attitude
is all that matters, then advising
them that if they can't walk then they're screwed.
Get up, clench your fists and grit your teeth:
revenge and rage'll get you through the week.

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