Each morning I wake up and think,
What good would life now bring about?
Each morning eyes release the blocks,
What good would poetry bring about?
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Just some fancy words of language,
Just some dreamy, yearning thoughts,
Just some lines to make impressions,
Just some verses to pass some time.
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Oh boy, you write so bad, so bland,
Oh utter nonsense, waste of ink!
Go find a life, oh sing some hymns,
For your sweet verses don’t even rhyme.
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Poetry’s not gonna feed your family,
Poetry’s not gonna find you cash,
Poetry’s just gonna lead you astray,
You’re just gonna sit with a beard and a pen.
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Don’t weep you’ve still got some time,
Grow up and get a job like mine,
Get money, girls and whole of world!
This writing’s going to make you whine.
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This world ain’t philosophic anymore,
You’re going to die whilst young are dreams
You think from head now, tough and rough!
Go get some vices, snatch your share now.
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Oh Sir, I do write for you all,
Oh Sir… No you won’t get it now,
Oh Sir, I do hope that one day,
May life is at par with you all.
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Poetry’s going to earn me the hearts!
Poetry’s going to pierce through the soul!
Poetry’s going to make us all anew!
Each of the days, we’ll besiege a universe!
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Alas! You are lost in the world,
Alas! You’re faking this realism,
Alas! You’re at war with reality itself!
Green’s not the grass, just the bucks for you.
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Never have you smelt fresh ink?
Never have you felt old paper?
Never you have been in the whirl-
Pool of the ecstatic realms of a poet.
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I hope you could eat all the money,
I hope you could love any one of the girls,
I hope you could breathe the whole of the world,
I hope your poetry does rhyme and rhyme about.