Catastrophes imagined fill the mind.
Infinite the space that is consumed
The poem is good if I escape the rhymes.
I can’t write on paper which is lined.
Everything was perfect, now it’s doomed
Catastrophes imagined fill the mind
Is it good to benefit from crime?
Turn the gas on I can’t smell the fumes
The poem was good until I pinched your rhymes
I could write a poem if I had time.
Get the brush and sweep out all the gloom
Catastrophes imagined hurt the mind
Use this energy in your designs
Never give a seminar on zoom
The poem is good if I leave out the rhymes.
If you are calm this will be a boon
In my mind I hear verse as a tune
Catastrophes evoked enrage the mind
The poem improves without the poet’s sighs
How my heart sings 