Disturbed turtle through corporate whorish hurtles–cheetah with ideas.

Ancient plaintiff, aided; re-scribble my fiddle–two memoir missiles;

Looking for odd words, cops heard; my freethinking by BB mocked,

curved.  Sing a sonnet slung; unlock my gun; their clock just rung–

I’m a writer, stop at none.  Free thru paragraphs, what I’m about

2do at altitude; wow the Room, a crowd now consumed. empty

lots, plenty knots; ..recite to Self on flight to wells deep; thesis

carefully crafted, never sell cheap; a quelled creep, my approach

in a slow note’s anecdote throat. now I’m too poetic, ‘cause I’m

true, no edges. between my diaries and politician’s, plenty wedges.

other than this chair, my Artistic welfare, no pledges.  Simply my

tendencies, beget set empty breeze.  No more calendar marks

my heart can finally start.  surviving from scarred Art–partial

meditation like carnal martial; combat attack, not like Iraq.

papers flat from sitting on tables in such high stacks.  why

act when i can just relax?  evade the marvel–I’m hardly startled.

My momentum, decelerated.. need more air, so I can read more

fair; their pleas; pour, tear..  I’m implored, where?  Never respond

to dares.  Critics only get despondent stares, know I’ve said that before,

but now I’m on the other side of the door, soliciting more; clock stopped

at 4.