Of Poetry's Perfection
I’ve littered the page with alliteration
Marbled it with metaphor
Injected it with irony
Confined it in constrictive cadence
Slathered it with slithering syllabic silliness
Ravenously roamed the Rhyme Zone
Challenged the demons of “How many dot com”
Punctuated the un-punctuatable
Said “the heck with spelchek”
Shed the shroud of sentient surveillance
For my words are fed through
The shredders of sentiment
The chopping blades of “critique”
The swirling blades of trimmers
The plucky platitudes of pruners
And yet I write, compose, imbue
In unseen color distant words
Rough cut diamonds
Defying the cutters edges
Leaving a life unpolished
Unabashedly unashamed
Of the tarnished truths
That mar the purity
Of poetry’s perfection
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