Defer to rhyme!
You can make any word you think of work.
Half the time
the rhythm’s broken
anyway (you can speak American vernacular without being a jerk).
Defer to rhyme
if you want lime
in your daiquiri. The biggest perque
of poetry is time—
time lost and time gained.
OK, we’ll exert the torque
that’ll turn the whole tune upon a rhyme,
weaving whimsical designs.
“Let me have my fun and don’t fuck
with me,” it says. “I’ll use time
It’s blind luck
that my wild rhymes
always defer to, beating time.”
