Neobrats
Machiavellian dharma bums-
thumbing noses at the world
brazen fingerflags unfurled
tragic frowns on magic clowns
in fine designer hand-me-downs
hip and flippant,chips on shoulders
colder than the golden rings
piercing their exteriors
Neoclassic neobrats
drafting in and out of time
tatting lines of prose and rhyme
in easy lays that tease and play
in not the least most pleasing ways
the seed is sown,a need to hone-
a poem of their very own
near to the interior
Copyright © Rob Metcalf | Year Posted 2010
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