In all so seriousness

Only poets aren’t entitled to compose,
We con artists too with our two pennies
And tales as romantic as Monday mornings,
Sometimes we settle for bait than a catch.

Slight more than to what meets the eye
I always fall short to grasp my discourse,
As never do I go to bed with ugly wenches
Yet I sure have woken up with a few.

If the Crucifixion was for self-defense
I pen to bring forth a divinely comic me
So you may again get down on one knee
My two pennies on my beginner’s luck.

To land this playfulness to a sober end
I bid farewell to this joke unwitting
Unlike long ago I’d say ‘So long’ after
So long that no one would long any longer.