Unbecome

No time for fun

I'm a poet

Even my muses

are averse to merriment

Stout and solemn

are their names

Waves of the sea

need adjust their symphony

to the dirge wails

I purge on the pages

No slapstick,

no slap on the wrist,

no tongue in cheek

All that can wait

for a stand-up meaningless

I'm here sitting down

to make meaning of the perverse,

the life, the universe

But of late

Almost as if ordered to make

my lines lack rhythm

my songs lack rhyme

the verses seem emptied of fervent/ feeling

Time to give up

becoming one

Before I end up becoming

a poet no one wants to read

or know about