The Ecphorizer
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I'm sick of rejections don't want any more; I'm sick of rejections it's one yawning bore. Rejections from publishers, lovers and friends; from bosses, from bigots, pink slips without end. My box runneth over... it's piled like manure: with much more rejection than I can endure. It's no, never, not now and sometimes a maybe. I've heard rejections since only a baby. Don't bawl, don't jump, don't hop, don't walk; Don't shout, don't yodel, spit or talk. Don't get dirty don't eat too fast; Don't get married it won't last. Sorry, better luck next time my friend; If the Ecphorizer rejects me This is the end. A "refugee from New York," poet Marilyn Ducati has degrees in psychology and gerontology. More Articles by Marilyn Ducati |
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