Words are flying out like
Senseless banes; threshold of pain is up.
A dithering morass,
They’re writ each day, a crop of useless verse.
Two tomorrow, maybe more,
Are drifting to that poke-fun site. . .
Unimpressive, digressive me.

My rude tunes daily drone.
Nothing’s gonna rein this churl,
Nothing’s gonna chain this churl,
Nothing’s gonna shame this churl,
’nother bane on the pane hurled.

Images from token rhyme which
Atrophy after they hit folks’ eyes.
Recalled, not a line of this crop of useless verse.
Jots meandered like a
Feckless chimp arranged some lettered blocks,
All jumbled mindless as
They waste the day, a crop of useless verse.

My rube tunes daily drone.
Nothing’s gonna rein this churl,
Nothing’s gonna chain this churl,
Nothing’s gonna shame this churl,
’nother bane on the pane hurled.

Boundless blather, waste-time writes,
No singing, at least, pokes folks’ ears,
The blighting’s from a writing spree.
Lyrics pest and trying putz; dim
Rhymes abound, meaningless silly puns
Can’t halt the onslaught, stop this crop of useless verse.

My rune tunes daily drone.
Nothing’s gonna rein this churl,
Nothing’s gonna chain this churl,
Nothing’s gonna shame this churl,
’nother bane on the pane hurled.

Ply rude tunes daily,
Why rude tunes daily?!