The question of time has arisen before
There isn’t a flash poet who can write such a score
We’ve beaten the best and here come the rest
And what does that make of me?
It makes me the flashiest poet around
And I demand that the numbskull who thought up
Should better be able to be on the keen
Edge of the rifleshot away from the forthright
Sight of the real thing called coke.
Time: 45 seconds, if that.
Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders