The sense of this ditty is just to amuse you
Providing distraction, albeit quite brief;
Pretense to instruction would only abuse you,
Command your attention, abscond like a thief.
Bombastic! Cantakerous! Trumping, galumping
Explosion in ecstasy, fallen to hell;
Salcious, moist body parts, elephants humping,
Revulsion and passion have served us all well.
Still with me, I see? so I must be succeeding
(At least you have not yet turned on the TV.)
Now dare I leave off what's tlll now kept you reading,
Endeavoring slyly to -- set you free?
To look with astonishment on mere existence
Cannot be a grace that's evoked by a poem;
'Tis you must endeavor to banish the distance
That separates you from your primeval home.
Something has beaten us down and prevented
Our touching around us what's present and real;
It sings to us, rainbow-hewed, subtly scented,
Adrift in our heads, we're unable to feel.
Stop reading! I mean it. Turn off your computer,
Tune in to the raw state of being in time;
Put down this device, or abandon this book,
Don't wait for the poet to leave off his rhyme.
Could it be you're still waiting for me to stop writing?
Well, then, I will
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