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
© 2017 Nikhil Chopra