But according to a fellow who's a pretty smart guy, its merely, mindless drivel
He says im a feeble and un-qualified hack, and my time is wasted and frivel
He says it reminds him of Dr Seuss rhythms, simplistic and predictable chime
Just word association with a few good lines, no storey, no plot, just ryhme
All that I know is it makes me feel good, when i read it it helps me cope
Some of my words bring tears to my eyes, and some of my words bring me hope
I wish I could speak with such depth and precision, but reality is not such a treat
I stumble in person, and lose train of thought, and a im really not quick on my feet
So I try to paint pictures of my feelings and thoughts, with words and phrases and line
Arranging for flipping like an old Kineograph, the images appear from my mind
I know I'm not Whitman, or Shakespeare, or Priest
I know that I can't hold a candle
But the paragraphs I form are magic to me
And sometimes their all I can handle