cc7up
| | Joined: 6/28/2010 Msg: 1 | |
| | Write your own !Page 1 of 1 | The talentless, envious, Plagiarist's dream Was to find someone's 'works' on a shelf or a beam In a pub, in a folder alone and ignored As the author lay slumped and as drunk as a lord
Stealthily taking those coveted sheets He rushes off home via dimly lit streets When his doors were all locked and the curtains drawn tight He copied his windfall well into the night
First thing next day not long after he'd phoned He went to his agent with the stuff that he'd cloned Dreaming of royalties and acclaim by his peers But for him it was destined to end up in tears
There's some gentlemen waiting for him in the hall (His agent had asked two policemen to call) “These poems aren’t yours, they've already been done By that drunk in the pub who is also my Son”
Now if you aspire to a literary style You should write your own poems or books but meanwhile Between penning a story, blank verse or a rhyme Keep your hands off my stuff or you'll end up doing time. | |
|