Spilled Ink

All the poetry in the world

will never make a difference.

Every line is wasted words

from a million voices never heard.

Every sonnet is a waste of time

delivering no coherent meaning.

This spilled ink that runs in tides

amounts to clamourous, idiot cries.

See: here is this doggerel verse

complete with digital pagination:

and you who read it thus far verge

on giving these lines the virtual bird.