How deep the hole, and deep the water..
Still waters, they say, will run still deeper.
My fate in life to to climb upward without pause
Seeking freedom without neither zest nor cause...
Depth, constant the definer of life;
Deeper still is that constant strife.
Traffic in anarchy, pedestrians gone berserk-
The roads simply don't do much but irk
And splatter like blood they do, but mud,
And stain, thicker than both water and blood.
Depth is the measure of freedom;
How deep can we go in this slum?
Nonsense from four directions doth assail;
With no fucking around to help me bail
This cesspot of a life into which we go deep
And let shit from all entrances into mind seep.
Ah, 'tis a pity to let bad language mar
What may have been a good piece by far.
Yet artistic license is like freedom in press;
All it serves is to irk and depress.
Once at work I sat down to listen
Hear and absorb, repeat and christen;
More and more nonsense that ran the morass
And came out in a falteringly deep bass..
Depth I need and depth I seek
The field and life do both seem bleak.
Out of my head cometh ideas nonsensical;
Yet deliver I must, and still laconical-
The PTC in class is the subject of the weak;
Sorry, that's week, yet that's the meaning I seek.
Of uncertainty does this blogger reek.
Order ki maa ki chut, I'll write as I like.
And through the sludge of imbecilic rhymes and long-winded nonsense, hike.
My own experience in these matters can itself fuck;
And at listening to my advice I do seem to suck.
Yet that depth I have yet to achieve,
Which writers past often do recieve.
And I seem to utterly fuckin' lack.
No depth, so I may hit the sack.