I sometimes try but obviously am
bound to more often than not fail
To hide behind my cocoon spun
silken webb of lie's
For fear of otherwise being exposed
that I doth not possess any or little
or no intrigue or mystery at all
Besides what you see cowering
dastardly in front of you here before
you now
So mistakenly I take a bow forgetting
rather I should have been curtseying
instead
But regretfully for me my head over
rules my heart
When like baby I feel trapped and
am unable to react and am forced
into a corner
As fear has stolen from me my
confidence and silenced my voice
so I dare not wish speak out
As I am so frozen statuesque dumbstruck
to the point I can not even in or through
the graceful ambient language of sign
Have the ability nor emotional depth
to display the sense of inner turmoil
pulsating through my veins down to
my core
And the reason why what not only
I but the world sees now in I is
Someone suffering from a terminal case
of Imposter Syndrome
New Rules for the Royals
By Elton Camp
Though Kate may become queen some day
To some she is required to curtsey anyway
For it is a mere commoner she used to be
She must defer to those born royal, you see
Though if her husband is standing right there
To curtsey to most of them she needn’t care
All those rules sound pompous and inane to me
Although it might be quite amusing for one to see
Surely if she happens to have had too much booze
And after curtseying, her royal balance should lose
After she takes a few falls flat onto the castle floor
That she married Prince William she may abhor
Strangely enough, to Camilla she must kowtow
To me, that seems highly inconsistent, somehow
It seems preferable the way it is done in the USA
Nobody bows and grandiose titles they don’t say
But the duchess had to know what it was all about
Unless she follows custom, she will be thrown out
Caravans sing my song
Despite my regressive chalk outline
Clouds wrestle mango dawn
Urging me to shed my fleshy brine
Wriggles I’ve undergone
This rustic harmonic snakes my spine
Lost beneath the city
Chasing those proud albino raccoons
Grins too vast for pity
My whole outfit has been clacking spoons
Watch my ant committee
As they spell out all my thought balloons
Motion presses with zeal
As the clock arms titter to be waved
Visions slope so unreal
Caressing the moments to be shaved
Smoke my banana peel
Gutless yellow, yet so well behaved
How’d my pocket catch fire?
Combustibles flaring from my mind
Cinders leading the choir
Tapping the time while locked on rewind
I’ll give you my sapphire
If you’ll stop smiling through that orange rind
Say you’ll offer a truce
Or those mosquitoes shall tackle me
They slow dance to seduce
Curtseying down like a cackle tree
Playing games of abuse
Riddles blazed on that neon marquis
Now that I’ve gone crazy
Potential gleams like a medallion
My brash dripping daisy
Baffled generals lead my battalion
Notions smack me hazy
Zoning aptly through my glass scallion
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