Can’t Touch This

March 20, 2009 at 6:30 pm | Posted in Rude Poetry | 4 Comments

With apologies to MC Hammer:

I can’t publish (5x)

I, I, ideas hit me so hard

Make me say, “Oh my Lord

Thank you for blessing me

‘Cause I’ve got free time and I type quickly.”

It’s no good, when they turn me down

As I shop my novel all over town

I don’t like it much:

The thing is my book, uh, they won’t touch

I told my agent (I can’t publish)

They ain’t even reading and you know (I can’t publish)

Look at my book, man (I can’t publish)

Yo, let me bust the funky lyrics (I can’t publish)

Spend the whole advance

On a penthouse flat, if I only had a chance

To prove I’m the elite

I’ll make the top ten and have them beat

It’s my calling, to write

Type a little bit and keep it going all night

No slack, no slack

Signed first editions stacked in the back

Then they’ll know, my talent’s much

But this is a book, uh, they won’t touch

Yo, I told you (I can’t publish)

Shouldn’t even dare, man (I can’t publish)

Yo, writing’s hell, just give in, sucka (I can’t publish)

I got a plot, twist ending

Make ’em sweat, it is just mind bending

Now, they know

You talking about this author you talking about a show

I type, all night

Always sweating to get it just right

So the page, will turn

What’s it gonna take for the public to learn

I’m so legit?

I work so hard and I’m not gonna quit.

Use words that you don’t know…

I can’t publish (3x)

I’ll break down!  Stop, writer time!

Go out on tour, it is said

That you’ll finally get famous after you are dead

Do something strange to your hair

Wear some weird clothes, and get that eccentric flair

Pulitzer, I’m a winner

Auction a chance to have me to dinner

Sit, on that rump

‘Cause at this minute I’m just in a slump, slump, slump…

Yeah… (I can’t publish)

Look, man (I can’t publish)

Glad I can type, boy, because you know (I can’t publish)

What the hell, I give in (I can’t publish)

I’ll break down!  Stop, writer time!

Every time you see me

I just sit there and type

I’m still pretty poor and there’s no success in sight

Now why did I ever start doing this?

I can’t stop writing novels I can’t submit

In bookstores ’round the world, from London to the Bay

It’s “Writer, O Writer, Mr. Writer, hey Writer”

And I swear I’ll have my day

I can’t publish (8x)

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