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An attempt at Iambic Pentameter for my poetry workshop. Go ahead, check the syllables! Yes, it's pretty fucking stupid, but then so is Iambic Pentameter. But I publish these things because somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, there's always someone who'll like them no matter if they suck to me. It's not really my decision to make once it's out there. Liberating in a way.
Andrew Poff
September 9th, 2008
Poetry Workshop
Iambic Pentameter
Plea of the Letch
It might be true there’s sex in all I do.
I am a primate after all, evolved
But still restrained to function, form and gut
And logic based evaluation of
Potential splicing exploits every tick
Of every clock and every circumstance.
So leave me to my lusting for I’m just
A man and do what men do. Your ideas,
Philosophies do nothing for my gut!
There’s food in my small belly, lust in my
Big heart and everywhere are they with hair
And dressing for my choosing, Waiting prim
And proper, prostrate, staring into me.
Convention tortures me—inefficiency.
so shred the lines for opportunity.
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Siredwinsantos@gmail.com
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