His peevish eyes were gliding lines,
bereft the meaning due
So closed of mind, he misdefines,
opinions thick as glue
and somewhere 'mid a biased glean,
between his jaded quips,
the meanings there are left unseen
like blackened manuscripts.
His tattered diction speaks of shade
upon neglected words
where meanings penned are misconveyed
as points are massacred
and 'mid his mind, beneath the bone,
a barren land is born,
an ebon place he walks alone
as understanding mourns.
His boredom curbed by hateful jest
as envy guides his hand,
just arrogance he manifests
when comprehension's damned.
An effort plyed in ignorance
as sullied ink is laid.
So blind to layered eloquence,
His hateful words, but written brands
that cauterize the joy.
They shake the pens 'mid poet's hands
in effort to destroy.
Their artistry embibing eyes
with meaning oft foregone,
a blindness born in full disguise
lest understanding dawn.
As such, his squinting eyes abide
the target 'neath their view.
A heartless soul unsatisfied
with ev'ry curlicue.
He rants above the soulful poem,
his notions quite absurd,
just echoes 'mid the catacomb
as voices go unheard.....