Grammar is Garbage

To critique a poem, is the "mother of all sins"

If simply read, everybody wins

Be it intellect, or passion, "absolute, or absurd"

Freedom, in each word, bound, to this world

Intellect, or integrity, all "means to an end"

Perspective, to offer, life's purpose, a "godsend"

The rules in place, forget the words, we place

Those words, we place, belong to this "world" we face

A writer, is a curious creature, writers write, not merely to get "featured"

A "comma", is a curfew, to some "full stop" waiting in queue

To write, is to "feel", not merely pause, and auto correct, some "desktop deal"

A thought leaves by fast, "exclamation marks" at last

These rules are too rigid, our thoughts are not frigid

Our thoughts are the only treasure, "typos" we do not measure

We write, for we fight, the world within, and the one around

We care, and we bare, this soul, at some editor's desk to be "lost & found"

What more do I say? To make myself worthy, of some livid "link"

If not on a platform, upon my heart, each word stands, "bolder than ink"

It is imperative, to think, not merely rhyme, or quote, on "spot"

It is integral, to encourage, novices need, to be nurtured, and sought

Where “free flow”, is devoid of category, commas, or commercial slot

Species, simply live, to reflect, ponder, and jot

Be it relevant, or redundant, I invite you all, to take a shot

Forget near perfect prose, or poetry, focus simply, on individual thought