Echoes of Dawn at Dusk: Collected Poems (Volume 2)

ain't gonna rhyme no more

Such artificial nonsense rhyme,
That can turn art into slime,
Make your thoughts not worth a dime,
And words a total waste of time.

Throw away the limiting forms,
Burn all the idiotic norms,
Old-fashioned rules are for fools,
No one but me plays with my tools

The new trinity is Me, Myself and I!
I set the rules for every game,
And follow none, just the same,
Anarchy rules all, that's no lie!

Iambic pentameter? Pyrrhic substitutions?
Who the hell cares about those illusions!
Counting syllables and each line?
Grand, pompous idiocy sublime!

Write a sonnet? I'd rather wear a pink bonnet!
But if I do 15 lines it will be
Why, 'cause I say so, doggone it!
And no idiot ABAB CDCD EFEF GG

I am GOD and rule it blasphemy,
To follow both hard and easy rules,
That make heads hurt, you'll agree,
Or burn in eternal hell as reactionary fools.

There is more art in a cow's mighty fart,
Than in Milton, Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Pope,
If you can't beat them, marginalize them from the start,
Drag them through the mire to raise me up, that is my hope.

From now on all couplets shall triplets be,
Thus do I decree,
Come to me on bended knee and I will set you free,
Everyone's a poet, welcome to the new reality.

Author’s note
Prefer a shorter version with tongue no less firmly planted in in cheek?

I'd rather do time,
With an obnoxious French mime,
Than be forced to rhyme.