December 07, 2006

the blurst of times

a thousand monkeys at a thousand laptops a novel does not make
for behind the words is a work of sweat, hardship and heartache
yet the monkeys tried and sweat they did, all for menial pay
but still they tried, and felt inside they'd finally have their day

most would fail, to no avail was their random typing
a broken dream, they'd yell and scream and wouldn't quit their griping
but there was success, as the monkey press made it so well known
some did their best, made it big, and now are on their own

one group punched many keys but they were gibberish at best
but those who read them came to greet them, thinking they expressed
words of sorrow, words of anger, appealing to the stressed
and the group broke off, became big stars, and went out to the west

others smashed away, an odd array, of u's and i's and t's
but some found words that appealed to nerds of dubious degrees
and thus they learned and quickly turned to their expertise
and made big bucks, in their monkey tux, doing as they please

one remained who wrote his mind, he had so much to say
of humour, heartache and all between, in a unique monkey way
and the monkey earned respect and love, and oh so much hype!
but all alone and in the light, poor monkey couldn't type.