I tried to write a story,
but the details were too gory,
And I knew you'd find the villain
much too mean.

I thought about another,
but my dear, departed mother
Would have said it was
disgustingly obscene!

I gave up on my ballet'
when rolls of fat got in the way -
During "pirouettes: the melting lard
"oozed" through my pants.

I was a "knight" in operetta,
but I started a "vendetta",
When I slipped, and skewered the "cast"
upon my lance!

Then I tried to sing a song,
but my vocal cords when wrong -
They s mashed my mirrors
and all my windo panes . . .

Not by their piercing tone,
but by the "objects" that were thrown
By my neighbors
when the pain assailed their brains!

As I brushed a model's picture,
Her nose began to itch her . . .
'Got so bad, she stooped
and rubbed it on the floor.

She promised she'd do better,
but the itching wouldn't let her.
So I paid her off,
And "painted" never-more!

I composed a "lovers's ballad"
But the ending was valid.
The "good guy" didn't win
the "virgin's" hand.

A villain's smile beguiled her
and then the "cad" defiled her -
He won her - her wealth,
And all her "Daddy's" land.

Then I took piano lessions;
And after fifty-seven sessions,
Two-fingered "Chopsticks"
was my only "repertoire".

My teacher smiled benignly,
as she "sidled" up behind me
And smashed my "Steinway"
with a "sledge" and wrecking bar!

I KNOW I have no talent -
and I'm crude, and NEVER gallant,
But "art" is RIFE
with blatant mediocrity!

"Tiny Tim" and "Madonna" made it,
so I will NOT be dissuaded!
There must SURELY be a fine
career for me!

Afte all of my reverses
(and your curses), I write verses.
And, though I'm poor at that
it's here to stay!

Despite the "Muse's" bruises
and my syntax that confuses,
I'll keep writing poesy rhymes,
'til my LAST DAY!

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