I Cut My Hair

I had the strangest feeling That if I cut my hair All of my crazy poem ideas Would suddenly disappear Like Samson with Delila I'd loose that added edge If I didn't keep this mop top On top of my knotted head All the poetry would be zapped from me And I would lose my purpose Start rhyming things like moon with June At that point my pen would be worthless But I couldn't take it anymore It was driving me insane So I got out the heavy duty shears And did something about this mane I now see the pile in front of me Expecting the Philistine's to crash through the door But the only action that there is Is me sweeping my curley remains up off the floor I now face the day in front of me Showing no lack of courage Continuing in my quest Of looking for that elusive word that rhymes with orange