Ghazal Galozza by Michael Lange
In the modern day ghazal you have to find way to say a rhyme that has to come after the second line.
So here we go are you anticipating, waiting to see which end my rhyme will have, is it worth the wait?
So guess what I will procrastinate by drawing on the gnawing flaw of modern day convinces such as:
The beat of my keyboard, the meat between two slices of wheat, the pleat of my jeans, or just debate.
This form decays away in its modernistic display attempting to hide my fail to decide on a form,
As I stare waiting for my cell phone or alarm clock to beep its monotone warning I took too long to wait.
I spice the price of this testing westward moving scheme jest at the best in my quest for the rhyme
Here somewhere in this line, but how do I get it I’ve used the same word twice; I guess I’ll let it skate.
Roll the dice as I slice through the air with the quick cut of my tongue talking this all out thinking its,
A quick sick trick of accents and events that sendoff scents of old documents, hold up and create.
I admit I’ve quit and began to knit in order to bog through this blog of copper cogs and rolling logs,
But just smile and nod, this is picking up style even though it took me a while, it starts to relate.
Away the words soar looking for more as I play and pray that this all turns out okay, sike its gone wrong and the song has committed genocide as it collides with its own rhyme, killing off every word in the state.
© Copyright 2017 Michael "Fynn" Lange. All rights reserved.
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