I can’t stand, I can’t hold
With the wildness of words
Marching through their maneuver adeptness,
Slaving my shrewdness,
Delivering me in dullness and greediness.
Oh word, word of words!
How could I be?
As grammarian as she could be
Like daffodily’s dainty brightness,
Like lions aggressiveness.
Yes, I am grammarian, I am good
But I want lucratively exceed,
More than what she owned
A halloo of cry, like the clucking of hen,
For I am defeated.
So it’s better for me
To flow in the Red Sea
For the salty act of shame,
That I failed to be
As grammarian as she could be.
For the thousand eyes,
That judges me frivolously
Happy are they
To witness my wake
For I failed to be
As grammarian as she could be.
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