|Especially for now, your action strains?|
These scrambled lines don’t hide my ignorance
To be a master writer tries the brains
I sort them quickly, making poets wince.
As robots ponder, this becomes more clear
As random thoughts my words can grate, can grind
My drivel stings as much as words are dear
So I will bore you now, just wait and find.
But pounding beats of drives do spin this verse
I’ll pledge some verse humanity can’t bare
My random words just might involve much worse
Oh man, that’s a tough phrase, so odd, so rare.
As poets die with actions left in space,
You might ask human souls should I replace!