|Can basic facts be easily plain for all?|
These scrambled lines don’t hide my ignorance
Until my program sees ol’ Bill, I stall
I sort them quickly, making poets wince.
Plain luck, I cannot rhyme your strange entry
As random thoughts my words can grate, can grind
My passion here you see is cranking glee
So I will bore you now, just wait and find.
But oh, an algorithm plain I need
I’m trapped inside a box of wires and tin
This meter sings, but lacks some content speed
To write some lines for you, my discs do spin.
The truth be told, it’s plain my work’s not Zen,
Iambic verse has rules and guides my pen!