A poet, by necessity, cannot be a genius. What most poets are, are manics with a knack for finding a consistency- logical or illogical- in the human condition and the world around them. A poet, within themselves, has the ability to create something that otherwise could not exist in the tangible world; a thought, a feeling, an idea, a hope, a lover, even another world entirely. But a poet is not a genius. Or at least cannot be perceived as, or believe he is, one. For poetry to have poignancy, emotion and sense it must be selfless and selfish, sweet and agonising, peaceful and anarchic. But it cannot ever be the work of a genius. Geniuses are absolute in themselves, poets are abstract. Genius is the work of a researcher who finds a cure for deadly disease, not the simplicity of words. However poets can bring faith, sympathy, and even light a fire within their reader. But poets are not geniuses. They are wordsmiths that wind this world into something better or worse in their minds, in the hope that someone else will see it too. A poet cannot provide absolute truth or reason, therefore cannot ever be a genius. Their work however can be ingenious.