WHEN CABBAGES DO THERE THINGS
My noggin started knocking,At six an sevens,
This morning;
So this is what I smote.
I'd give you more,
Than I could get.
That makes me,
Who I am.
I envisaged,
A world of possibilities.
But confusion,
Reigns supreme.
For there are no rainbows,
In my inspirational dreams.
At least,
None I've ever seen.
For men will act,
Like little boys.
When womanhood
Is king.
Don't take exemption,
To the rule,
If cabbages do there
Things.
For I've always had,
A machiavellian view.
Of things;
I'd never do.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
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Written on 2025-11-26 at 00:00
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