Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
Dear Mr Earworm, nestled in my brain-meat,
Spinning those songs that I dislike,
Like some god-awful DJ stuck on repeat,
Over and over, but never the whole song,
Just parts that earworms like,
And you see, that’s what is wrong,
If you played the full tune, it wouldn’t be so bad,
But you tease with a few words,
And this drives me mad,
Next time you feel like partying with a tune that I hate,
Spare a thought for your home,
My brain-meat, that you constantly frustrate.
For too long now you have fed me lies,
You told me that you’d be only mine,
The one whose hand you’d forever hold,
Happily married until the end of time,
But like sniffing dogs, other men arrive,
And my intimacies you did decline,
and greeted me with derision so cold,
So, I laced all your meals with strychnine.
I no longer cared when you did decide,
To fill your deceitful mouth with lies,
I just made sure your dose was double,
And was serenaded by your painful cries,
When I saw the regret in your lifeless eyes,
My cruel heart was filled with vengeful pride,
Silenced by poison, and buried by shovel,
Now you rest by a tree in the countryside.
Dan Verkys 