Tonight I’ll tell you, yes I will, about how I can rhyme with skill.
Some people they don’t believe it’s true. She doesn’t, he doesn’t and neither do you. But ever since I was a kid, I must tell you about the lid that was on a can of peanut butter, when I saw it that day my heart went a flutter. I remember my mom and remember my dad, they all wondered just why I had suddenly gone mad.
See, the real thing that happened that dark afternoon, was that I just started rhyming and singing in tune. Hidden deep in the can, taped to the side with such care, was a “How-To” in rhyming, which I read with a zombie-like stare.
Well the years sure flew by as I practiced my skill and I became so well known it was like ascending a hill. See, cause people who know that you’re great at one thing sure do love to come running when they hear the “cha-ching.” Now I’m nodding and shaking my head in disgust because those money-grubbing people came after me with a lust. Not the lust of one person, not the lust of one man, but a huge breathing entity that could cover the land.
There were few places to hide, so I had to abide, by my best friend’s small ride, a motorbike with a side. We travelled across the US and we stopped every day, so I could practice my talents for both work and for play.
But soon, the depression set in. Frowns appeared over my grin. That damn peanut butter can, had ensnared this simple young man.
With some counseling and help, I soon found my way out, of the terror of rhyming, and what it was all about. But every so often, when I hear a great jingle, the rhyming part wants to come out, and play along with the single.
But I stop. I will not. Fall prey. To the lot.
For a professional rhymer, is not an old-timer, and can succeed in this time, without a talent to rhyme… But that doesn’t negate, the great talent I hate, that I can rhyme all day long, and you can’t…
…so you’re wrong.
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