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Image for the poem My muse wears combat boots (reposted)

My muse wears combat boots (reposted)

My muse wears combat boots    
especially when he thinks he is funny,    
he freezes my inspiration    
as if I owed him some money.    
    
It makes me want to slap him,    
waaay from the back,    
because he refuses to cooperate    
and stay with me on track.    
    
The fucker wants things his way,    
he had to be a male.    
Ladies what do you say,    
shall I stick it to him in the tail?    
    
I give him many luscious words    
and even music that I play,    
he still manages to snub me    
and my writing turns out to be a waste.    
    
“Flaming bastard”,    
I will dress you in a pink leotard,    
lipstick and pair purple pumps,    
if you don’t give me a break    
and lighten the hell up!    
    
Better yet I’ll make you wear a tri-color wig    
and tie you to a tree,    
if you’re not helping me, then    
that’s where you need to be.    
    
He makes me have a bad hair day    
(real bad if the hair is mine)    
So In his britches I’ll put some fire ants    
and, on his toilet seat blue dye.    
If he doesn’t help me write a magnificent masterpiece,    
his arse will match the sky.    
    
Well maybe that’s asking too much,      
ok I’ll be happy if you just play nice    
a few poems a week    
if you don’t mind, would be alright.    
    
Sept 17 2011(reposted march 2012)    
Gypsy red    
Written by marielavoue (Gypsy Red)
Published
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