ARS POETICA II

Art came with the nature's aged game
Through this path natural strictures gain its aim
With no art nothing that is, now would be
All these things made would have had a grossly glee.
Ahura Mazda came comely with a sounding seven days
Just as the tradition have us run a septet race
The maker that had us be the sixth in the lines
WAS and IS and TO BE no lubber being who lacks premium plans.
He began well by acting the light, ''come quiet closely''
The light alighted with all his verity - taintless glory
God's loud silent sopor did stoop the whole reciting story
So was the holy roll planned from the beginning of Genesys
Most proudly Proverbs' own built-ups on heresies
Arts be some powered sacrilegious force
Some topic that merit some respect from us
That which is lacked is locked in what we got
Art has a tool is old but not obsolete for a worth
Which every matter got now and then can come past
For resolution and reformation so very fast
By such feet shall we agree the plausible fact
Even that that does not make any sense is a sensible act:
There was this day when a young bard
Not really one endorsed so but he was a kind of bad
So very fertile for art in the mind
He married lines from the days hard to find
He had done thousands of metres he spewed really
Four hundred and forty-four billion feets weekly
Zillions lots OF tamed themes that made sense contemporarily
And was currently treating the topic, ''intra-personally''
All he cherished was to make art an harp
He fell flat into likely minds like a cool cap
That ran into lahar, furnace of fire so aghast
For he fell back feeling a downer at last
And these were the lines which the boy cooked
That which rounded him up and had him booked
By those critics attitude aided no aeon premium
Read this lad merited some loud encomium:
I put up into the room in a manic speeding
Like a squirrel seeing an ada sowing some trap seedling
I sat at the tip of the tongue of an untidied bed
Putting off my dirty jack-boot then something fled
Like a rush of breathe from Eurus's nose
Blowing from the South holes
Past the West way in a confusing pose
In spite there we were many men matching the passage
So narrow space we were made a roomage
This being I averse so very much
Which is by name we call cockroach
Outside the plea nature would not so enjoin
This one was very bold enough he to join
Claiming spaces with man which is unlikely
So bizarre to have angels court a Barbados in purgatory
He moved from one shoe into the other
And come out uncovering the cover on another cover
In awe was I be within these mighty minutes
With spittles settling in my mouth marching folded minutes
How so? So I did mower
A minute thing doing this courageous further
Is better be done a panegyric lest this whole efforts
Faint for nothing void, of cause off supports
Changing my pants seeing it singing hanging to its part
A big slam in slap he smashed his saddle part
On the solid floor for what meetness lies so twixt
Man and this grotesque guy coupled hisses till the sixth
But seeing on him floor done flooded my mind thus
What a big irony of all life gave for a cross.
That be the lines the critics cast on words, ''just a new mediocre''
''Drop the profession and dare you not write more you are no writer''
''The grammatical statutes are forgotten we complain''
''And shut up for ever no words more do not explain''
''Go down and never rise
This lines averse our spirits, your styles must win no prize''
''All these pieces of shits are some bunch of shock''
''None has this kind of forge, who writes of a duck''?
''Let alone some ants family you wanted to say he sucks''
''Why not another hyperbole he had some legs for sucks''
''Perhaps we would grant the grace to buy him a gown''
''So you put on him to tuck and frown''.
These are the ways the legacy would fall and never rise
Out of nothing shall we recover everything guys
The world was in all her vastness void but by vague
We reel in the books everything was called out like bague
In that that makes you cry should critics call to see laughter
Even if the elements are lacked too further
None is betrothed the grace to condemn and boo
But via encouragement and proper lectures shall new styles ensue
The styles on here should be improved upon you think not!
What would your generation upgrade since we cannot build a nut
All we do is kill coming talents, fade in the cemetery
There they sing better the lines they would, if hyped properly.
There are ways we can deliver the demon with wit and calmer calls
A shriek from Shrek on a baby brings its falls
As even the tentacles of a snail can beat a milestone aloud
If its shell is not seated upon proving we schooled abroad
One ward of parody better oceans of worlds of criticism
There which is favoured in seem
You put the right right next to its opposing
But those witty heads that cannot do well writing
Is not helping art but doing giving a good kill
So done is muse's head in; a gravest steal...
© Jodekss

Reel ARS POETICA I

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