Mumbled jargon, and letters entwined—
delicate diction and a tearjerking prose.

You claim poetry, I claim rubbish—
I'm not british, but with clear eyes—
and so clearly do I have eyes
to observe and see,
to think from sight and here I stand,
to hear you rant about the ramifications,
and the juxtapositions
of these unarticulated lines—
the artistic genius of a failure.

Pardon the irony, but I can't stand the way you devastate and decimate
the speech of the gods,
the legends,
the artists,
the saints.

You're nonsensical and delusional!
You speak art but I must.
I must differ!

Utter moonspeak.