well allow me to retort

my online submittal is nothing to baulk
ive written them poetry, rhythm, or blerbs
most publishers have only sidewalk chauk
they sit in their studios; some smokin the herbs

i know i write some hard hitting stuff
and sometimes a piece on a snowball's fluff
and when i set pen to paper and start to see rhyme
i kick off my shoes and start to unwin(d)
it's not always cheerful and happy or rose
some's not even poetry its actually prose

i don't always go with the flow
though i might see a pattern
the geese follow roads too
but it's not to saturn

there's something in me that asks out loud
something shiny and tiny
and of it i'm proud
i feel punctuation's an option
capitalization a sin
unless you have a reason within.

there are rules to poetry, sir
the schematic stanza
and free verse is quant
but didn't you go to DeAnza?

yo, a-oh, lend me your ears
don't tell me that all of these years
in classrooms and workshops
have given you vision,
maybe you'd learn more
had you been to prison.
or had a life of decision
you've too much precision
inside that head
them's clouds outside
or haven't you read
there's emotions and feelings
and all of them sad
don't testify to me
i'm not so bad
no, not me, i'm a good little boy
i'd just get a kick of you being their toy.
i'm not saying i've had a life of color
i'm just here like you, a brother
and if i offend
let me just spend
a second to be like no other

I will learn your style.
Just give me a while,
"Rome wasn't built in a day."
Hey whats the worst?
I may never get off first?
Sit and enjoy, be gay.

i'm enjoying the ride
no limits, no pride.
no cheerful endever
to be clever
or stick with the same old game
think out of the box
and into the rhyme
(whoa, that's heavy)
so
look ol' man, i don't run with the herd
i ain't fresh from Berkeley
you birkenstock brass
so make like a tree
and kiss my