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Fly Right He Said
Straighten up -
Fly right-
My canvass queen.
You are not a butterfly
that flickers and flouts
all about,
Flesh muse:
I can't use
you as your
drunken monkey,
has arisen bickering about
as you shout,
consumed of stout.
Wanting to
capture your
divine essence.
While you are
full of Spirits
and quite sprite.
I need you - to sober
up and fly right,
sit tight.
Distorted by the gin
The features
of your chin, alas
you appear crass,
need only a smile.
Come again tomorrow
Without the hyena
countenance of your sass.
You pose bass-ackwards;
Picture how silly you laugh.
Young and beautiful;
Without the jaded
eyes and sorrowed
brow, sit pretty for me, he asks:
Befittingly, in your high rank,
and return to your class.
Copyright ©
Vicki Acquah
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