Look, all I want from you's a little praise--
A job-well-done, good-work pat on the back.
It's not like I don't cut you any slack,
And I'm not asking for some kind of raise.
Tell me I don't deserve it. Go on, try.
You can't; you look around, see what I've done--
The garden, animals, even the sun
And every Me-damned cloud up in the sky.
What's that? The Evil? Baby, that's all you.
I will not take that heat. You had your shot.
I mean sure, I knew you would--you couldn't not,
The way you're made; still, you do what you do.
But enough of that. Get praisin', kids, or else
I'll spend the next six days refining Hells.
4 comments:
They can't all be gems.
it's ok.. twenty and twenty one make up for it. Great project keep it up!
I actually kind of like this one.
What's wrong with this one? Very clever, I thought. I like the way the revelation of the identity of the speaker is delayed (delayed revelation is a nice trick you use often). I like the humor in God's threats. I like the humor in the idea that all God wants is a little acknowledgement. Love the rhyme of the concluding couple.
Post a Comment