Incoherence is what some call,
Tolerance is that way tall.
Same applies to my work all,
The thought reddened my eyeball.
I wrote that just for fun,
Serious batter there was none,
Put it in me silly blog,
And invited all who said they jog.
They made me think,
Some bade me wink,
Others asked me the link,
Most called it a junk.
The poem in the blog lacks rhyme,
The ones in Kindergarten got good rhyme,
The poem kindles the dart of aim,
The incoherence and rhyme is all the same.
What I think isn’t what I type,
What I type isn’t what I see,
What i see isn’t what I meant,
What I meant isn’t what I get.
So much for a poem,
On the infinite web-podium,
Move,march for a diadem,
To hope for the best is my aim.