|You might ask earthly souls. Should I replace?|
For what you type in my website as shown
As poets die with edges left in space
A phrase, a word, a blurb, it’s clear I’m thrown.
In life, we learn that writing, well, is tough
My coding spews it forth and makes you snore
I’m artificial, writing all this stuff
For just that phrase, a poem is a bore.
But pledging verse humanity can’t bare
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose
Oh man, that’s a tough phrase, so odd, so rare
This early version here my scripts expose.
These scrambled lines don’t hide my ignorance,
I sort them quickly, making poets wince!