Cupcake Rap

I once asked a group of poetry students to define bad poetry. after ten minutes, no one came up with even one for an academic list. they could tell me what made a good poem, but not a bad one.

and perhaps that is a problem today…because, well, because we have such dreadful teaching, among other reasons. So much is relative, not academic. at least  in the divided states of america.

so i can write the most horrid poem ever to grace the face of a screen…and someone finds it “enlightening.” i am, once again, reminded that there are many people out there not as intelligent as me driving around on the roads…and egad…reading and evaluating poetry.

it is with serious face that i must tell you that there is a disease rampant in the decaying western world known as stupidity. given enough exposure to it, with the right incubation period, the disease can be fatal. especially to anyone with a brain (not playing with the gray matter). that includes all of us who write poetry and who do not write rap lyrics. the latter usually resembles llama excrement on a page, and when injected into headphones/ear plugs can cause cancer of the intelligence.

but i digress…or digest…so….back to the point (please forgive my ADD, it is the only math I know).

you thought your neighbors were stupid? …well, you have not seen or heard anything yet. wait till you hear this rap…


the cupcake rap


i can selfie like a fashion pro

eat my jello with a wigglin toe

and my cupcakes theys the ones to beat

pickin up bakery from down the street

yo – i’m doin it all day long

like rappin while writin this song

yeah the cupcakes theys beyond compare

you can stick them in your fridgidaire

you can drink them from a bottle of wine

they be talkin to you all the time

they be sayin it in some kind of rhyme..

hey baby hey baby hey baby hey

hey baby hey baby hey baby hey

yo…we be doin this…doin’ this…yeah

yeah doin this…doin this….yeah

yeah we doin this…

ah, we doin this…

One response to “Cupcake Rap”

  1. How enlightening! I fear I am whirling in an even greater state of decay than those poor poetry students. I cannot even define what makes a good poem. So it goes…


    Autumn Jade


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