Read My Poem Friend

Read my poems, friend wisdom they carry in metric tones “Hey, you tell me to read your poems that wisdom they bear as ocean waters but how can I read them for sure? how can I understand chaotic words when I hated literature in school? Let me tell you, friend; Poetry needs other persons the ones who talk as parrots the ones who shout as weaver-birds those who jump as frightened horses those who crawl on bellies as chameleon the ones who look as owls in double glasses those who listen as shadows in the dark and are carefree as ghosts in caves As for me I squat here as a cat daily waiting for any shadow a rat to get lost into my hungry bag That is my job, friend not reading poems. I hate it a mess of confused words pasted together by a dreamer the one who believes can govern the world of sleepy men by use of disjointed thoughts