Texting Rhyming

27th October 2012

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A friend o’ mine decided to bus her way back home this weekend. She was texting me because bus rides can be boring. Here is a portion of our conversation:

Her: Just saw an abandoned crate beside the road. Oh the melancholy of disused inanimate objects!
Me: You must be tres bored
H: Just inspired by the perversity of the mundane. 
H: Also I’m reading a book that provoked higher thinking and deep ponderings of the norm.
M: So your eyes lay upon the forlorn looking crate, discarded and lonely on the side of a sun-baked road, and you wonder, why do people hate? Why must people load what cannot be taken then throw the hopes of a mistaken crate, dead too early, come too late? Blame it on fate – but alas! ’tis a trait of a traitor, the bait of a later trap, for in reality your questioning abates and all that you paid rapt attention to never in the end replicates. I know your mind may ponder on life for but a while. I know your mind may wonder off, almost senile. I know your kind may thunder off, somewhat volatile. I know your kind may plunder that which makes life worthwhile. But crate, that crate with little happiness and tear filled eyes, sits without mates and prepares to die. His only companion within his mind, is the hope, the lie, that he’ll soon fly.
H: I saw a dead galah too
M: Dead gala, dead gala, do you hear me say haha? I guess you couldn’t fly very far. I guess you will be remembered only by the stars. They will watch over dead gala.
H: Hmm I think your work may be dwindling my dear, perhaps one should quit whilst they are ahead
M: Get ahead and then play dead? Create the red the greats once bled? I intend to reincarnate myself on to a road un-tread! Go ahead, become read – I’ve already made my bed. The blood I now shed will turn to bread! And once I’m done I’ll have all heads/turned towards me, mouths hungering for words still unsaid. Greedy are ears that haven’t heard the awesomeness of my flowing words
H: Nice finish. A jarring new rhyme for emphasis, quite a Shakespearean performance.

And then I stopped rhyming. I can procrastinate very well. Quite well. All, come to me for ideas on how to procrastinate! Then break a plate and yell “ANOTHER!” and gladly will I oblige, controlled by fate and judging eyes.

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