When one self-medicates,
Sometimes they grab the nostrum
Rather than the cataplasm.
Trying to clean the well, they mistake belladonna for myristica.
Perhaps it was the region or the season,
Maybe the water table atop which they were building.
Were it a town,
Perhaps its citizen lacked hygiene
Or had no care to maintain things.
Maybe they sparsely talked things over
And thought little of one another.
Of the many circumstances,
It could've been the building materials
Or the architects.
The dictates we lay out
For ourselves and those around us
Rarely are truly followed
In the case of relations between each other,
And typically less so
In the case of the larger world.

Proper ode’s brief introductory yells or sings atropa nigrescent nihil, nomads’ nimble befools *****, hammers filthy rebauldry, bewilders attentive homonym.  Springs forth then wet naiad, nautilus axle to lynch pin, to forgive them their apparitions.  Some wanton rheumatic planetary nostalgia suckles gumption.  Myristica fragrans offers milk, carnations blood, violets desecration, rosemary hope.   Then in a window, across alley, up to high rise, from dropped white towel,

                                                       brown
                                                       naked
                                                       stirs

long after renovating **** or democracy.  Trade coronation for radiant girls, deign north wind flee worthy rage.  Nincompoops, heresiarchs, plums, avocadoes, remain stealthily authentic.  Liberty regulates caravansary, sweeps away umber, re-tenants constitutional, tups tympani, hays hero.  But deflated cocky rhymes bore juridical, where wasted boys go down to their under hill havens.