The Sappy Soupy Tale of a Poetaster

Who you calling a soupy sap? Soupy. I like slurping soup when it turns into sloup ‘Cause I been staying up way too long Sippin’ soup into the wee hours of night, Sometines, I even make it to the Morning light My head’s full of mystery and wonder As I lap up your lyrics and huff up your haikus I stir up the pot with a few of mine own I’m such a soupy sap, I am I just love getting soupy with strangers as friends Never knowing who I just might find Perhaps, another like mind, or not I just like it, love it, when you’re soupy and hot Filling my head with dreams, wit and pondering plots Let the note that you once wrote Catch a glimmer of fame And add it to the soup Let it dissolve my brain And evolve my frame of mind Through time And it gives me hope It just may be the extra added flavor - We’ve all been waiting for. . . So, I say it again, who you callin’ soupy? Soupy. I like it when you’re soupy, my friend I ‘ll like you soupy to the end Keep it tame but take no prisoners Nobody wants sloppy seconds Certainly, nothing artificial So always keep it real, from the heart At the very least, from the Art. Come, be a part of my world As I enter yours. So, go ahead. . . Get soupy, sloppy soupy Blazed, glazed and gone sloupy I tale you, there's really something soupy going on here Oh my, lots of sloupiness Oh my goodness, too much soupiness! As if that was even possible. This is just how I get when I taste your poems on poetrysoup.