Hey, Hon-Honey,
Lean this way
And whisper sweet nothings of the day.
You shant stay long, yet long you stay
‘Cause all your life is trifle play.
Pile the heap
Words are cheap
And keep the sheep gloriously gay!
You titter in time
Of betrayal sublime
Of Mr. Rin Revel and the youthful stime
He found in a mistress of titillating prime;
Do you suppose he fess up to the crime?
Spread the word
Amongst the horde
Digging for grime not worth a dime!
Let me know
Of Ritchie Doe
Who will not let his test grades show
Because he goes against the flow;
In study-smarts he drags us in tow –
So chatter on,
Callous caricatures drawn
Of an arrogant child who deserves a hard blow.
Tell me please
Of Margaret Cleese
And the love she seeks on a wayward breeze,
The kind that renders one weak in the knees;
You can tell me, can’t you, with relative ease?
Such a good girl,
To gladly unfurl
Every small secret with no extra tease.
Hey, Hon-Honey,
What’s your deal?
My confidence you can no longer appeal
Since my innermost secrets you greedily steal
And cook up for classmates a malicious meal.
I am betrayed,
But still more dismayed
‘Cause it should have been clear that you cannot conceal.
Morning's Early Dark 