The Road Not Ratchet: A Poem
I’d like to think of myself as versatile, n’ah mean? I ain’t just a writer. I’m also a poetress. Yes, poetress. I can be deeper than the Kat Stacks’ parents’ Fail list. So here I’m is. I’d like to bless y’all with a poem.
I’m a fan of the classics. Old white men wrote some great things. So here’s my homage to Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken“…
*puts on Black beret, turtleneck & glasses* Hmm… my drum player’s late. CP time strikes again. RUDE.
TWO roads diverged in a yellow hood (#NoCabrini),
And my bad that I could not travel both (a chick got ish to do)
Since I’m only IGnance as I stood (only way I know how)
I looked down one as far as I could (looking for the bus)
To where it bent and my hairhat crooked; (So I had to adjust it. Can’t be having my wig fall)
Then took the other. Where’s my bus fare?
And having perhaps the senile brain;
Because I couldn’t find this fare, oh dear;
Though the bus driver got tah’d of me standing there
And told me to get myself to the back with shame,
And I looked out the window and drifted away
Noticed the leaves nobody had yet to rake (lazy bastids).
Oh, I remember where my fare went, oh YAY!
Yet knowing how I left it at home was a nay,
But I doubted if I left it in my backpack
I shall be telling this with a side-eye
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a hood, and I—
I took the one less ratchet,
And that has made no damb difference.
*takes a bow*
Robert Frost is somewhere UP and SET with me for this. He’s doing all types of cartwheels in his grave. So whatcha’ll think of my poem? O___o *ducks tomatoes*