To the explorers of the linguistic universe.

Keep your hosts of daffodils

Your weepy, whiney, verse

Don’t try to tell me

My writing is too terse

 

Don't question my choice of words

If they don't match your mood

Check your privilege at the gate

As there’s nothing I’d preclude

 

A healthy dose of realism

Will come knocking at your door

Don’t hide behind the curtains

Because its too hard to ignore

 

Living a poetic fantasy 

Of whimsy, fawn, and fae

Does not really cut it

In the hard, cold, light of day

 

The world tis a hard hard place

Life’s no shining bowl of cherries

When all we have are words and rhymes

To challenge such adversaries 

 

So no howling at the darken places

No barking at the moon

Just pen and ink and attitude

And paper to festoon

 

So take heed my friends and foe alike

And read my silken verse

For poets are naught but explorers

Of the linguistic universe.