Home » Poems » Nick Trim » It's Two Days After Thursday

It's Two Days After Thursday

Enter the Everest that devastates,
he never ever rests and he demonstrates,
how the greatness activates traits
that forever feed hate,
into enemies with envious jealousy
and sad little nul and void abilities.

It's a given that even if you sail the seven seas,
as well as trail the land you will fail,
to topple the unbeatable one,
who is second to none,
mortals don't stand equal,
the others just look feeble,
there are just no better people,
they all fall short and need support,
one by one each face returns to its common space,
with a disappearance of their cocky ways,
disgraced and put in their place.

It's total domination mate,
it sinks you into a submissive state,
I'll take your misses away on a date,
she's blowing me kisses,
she said to say you're finished,
I wish you best wishes,
in the sea there are many fishes.

She said to me
left toe,
right toe,
she turned an twerked her butt whole,
celebrate your birthday,
it's two days after Thursday,
we visited the bar mate 
because dancing makes you thirsty.
Left toe,
right toe,
and party like a hero.

I'm a quick wit picnic with sick tricks mentally,
a fantastic acrobatic doing spins and splits physically,
I'm a limey, a pommie, but it's no problem for me,
because I'm from the greatest rock poking out the sea.

My rhymes are dirty,
immature and over thirty,
insults don't hurt me,
athletic and nerdy,
so punches get returned 
and you wake up all hazy,
I'm a master of all trades,
not a jack I get "A" grades.

I'm the Go-Go God of the rhyme show,
others go, 
way to slow, like a Skoda,
I'm a force beyond NASA,
thrusting rockets out the O-Zone,
you're just a flipping bozo,
spitting rhymes that have no flow,
I'm a spitfire flyer like a yo yo,
you're just a clown falling of a pogo,
rhyming with less motion than a photo. 

I have to switch to the right when I write 'cus I'm a lefty, 
but I have to let it rest you see,
I can use both hands,
if I couldn't I wouldn't 
be able to meet my brains demand,
thoughts are short lived and out the port to sea,
or sieved out the sleeve.
I have to harbour what pours,
it doesn't rain it sores, 
so you're unlikely to upstage my quickly written
lickety split thermonuclear lit quick wit 
with whatever you pick 
to pull out your bag of tricks 
because I'll make it unstick 
quicker than thumbs can click,
and it's Trim not Nick.

I make the rest look comical, 
I rhyme well,
the rest are diabolical 
and rhyme stale,
why bag food up or clean plates,
when we can tag team up and be greats.

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.