dodge this

I met one day a boy on whom the street was walking down.
He leapt upon my shoulder, screaming “Return at once my crown!
I am the King; you are my horse. Now gallop! We are chased!”
“But Sire!” “Fire! Higher, higher! Or we are toxic waste!”

“Toxic waste does not fit in, you crazed and drunken king!”
“Who cares? Whatsthere. That damsel fair is wilting under the horrible curse that is state machinery and we really must save the whales as well and by section something or the other in which there is an act in which there is the coolest scene I shall save her and the whales and all living creatures inbetween and justice shall prevail again I give men hope I keep none for myself and really it is taxonomy and this base urge to classify everything into categories I am critical as you may have noted of impure treason.”
“What?” said I; “What,” said he. “You’re crazy.” “No, you are.”
“You’ve ruined my poem!” “I don’t care about your stupid poem! Freedom! Onward! Outward! Rock and Roll! Shit I have a paper due tomorrow! In the beginning was the Word! Bye. Where’s my shoe?”

What does this mean? We’ll never know. It always comes to this.
I think I’ll have some tea, listen to some soothing music and rest my tired head.
The metric scheme is ruined beyond redemption.
The Muse is weeping bitter tears. But I feel oddly liberated.
Freedom! Ride on, you phalanx of galloping gumboots!