Poetry is all I knowetry

The un-calculated literate assaults,

Of a text that's proud of its faults.

And It's Grammar is not correct, and it's was point indirect.

But that's the way of poetry and that's all i knowetry

It's still left to be certified, corectifed, and spellcheck rectified.

Because it a truth denied, and then creatively lied.

Now With the mind-crash of word extinction on going

The backsplash ink brain must go into poem.

Then It was written to friend of the pen.

The letters of alphabetical new order

But there was Trojan scribe on the offense

The Real World had snuck into to make it make sense.

But the Words were neological, the type was spiritual.

The writing is on the wall so you can take it literal.

Twas an unwritten scripture of thought

Squeezed through a pen, to distort

And left on paper, a blob

A tear from the nib and a sob

Bye bye these words go

No longer they were owned

Through Paper and air they they flown

On grey matter they are sown,

Seeds of Cultivated neologisms

Sprouted written organisms.

The roots the meaning deep in the ground.

The first language never found.

With the Rains of topical brainstorm,

A new formation was now born.

Deep Into the specific ocean for description

there is no other hand sculpting your depiction

Engraving into now, your inscription.

A nice Withdraw the metaphorical addiction...

of a The verbal-literary prescription

Of now living out your own fiction.

Like The two coupled letters in an envelope, elope.

Your imagination's running away with you.

Let's bring our scribe and it's pen alive

The paper in front is where it will surely thrive