Some days, I’m self-hating and dim.
An Ascetically Average American
My life an Ugly, Uncomely Uh-litter-ation
Juiceless, overthought.
After trying my awkward hand at so-called creativity
I’m left with lumpy debris:

Ugh! Rhyming verse is a corral
Land of playfully bloated restraint
A cage for forced art (et al)
Making insight bleakly quaint

But free doggerel is the savant
Caged within the idiot.
(That, friends, is rhyme.)
Verse, frenzied and associative
Imperfectly colorful – nifty! Nonsensical!
Lying misconstrued and splayed upon a page
Pregnant, hinting at message
But lengthy, gauche, and imprecise

Haikus? Defective.
Not even built for English!
Clunky, cutting me-

No. I take relief in an Advil and an epigram:
“Some days, my brain is empty.”
Yes. I grab my keys-
Sears has written perfectly, Half off Home Appliances!