To keep it short just let me say this straight:
They call me rough, uncut, a reprobate.
Their public views do not hold hands with mine.
Each time I pick up pen, and paper touch,
some irritating words appear and shine
like lighted signs that always ask too much
of reader's time. But then I stop and think,
perhaps I shouldn't be so hard on me.
The things I write don't drive myself to drink.
I write my thoughts to set ideas free.

I'll wave a wand above the words I write,
and trust some deeper magic says them right.
So there you have me, yet I'd like to ask,
is form the measure of a poem's worth,
or message? What removes the author's mask?
The words, a better song; to give thought birth
instead of tossing earth into its early grave.
I only want to move a person's mind
in hopes they'll see the things we need to save.
The better treasures aren't that hard to find.

*