A Very Tight Poem

It must be said that I enjoy these records. Currently "Beatles '65" is spinning on the ol' turntable. Its pretty much the U.S. version of "Beatles for Sale" and is not as good (they omit tracks on the U.S. version), but it is nevertheless still the Beatles and still vinyl. I finally set up a turntable in my tiny ass room, and now old fashioned vinyl sound encompasses all. My room may be tiny, but much power comes from it. My house now has three turntable systems, which is literally the description of an old vinyl-head's wet dream

I got this very tight poem I wrote. Note how literary I am while reading it. Powerful allusions are tough for the average man to comprehend, but not the average Roosta. Before I begin, let me just say that the poem is copyrighted as MINE, that is, on the date of October 2nd, 2005, I wrote it (maybe), and I am posting it on the date above.

The following poem is untitled, but if you want to give it a title, use the first line. Now enjoy this muthafuckah!

Passing one-footed through the fine-wooded trees,
T’was an old yellow park need be forever clean,
Leaves fell in rhythm of a cyclic ease,
A placed path traced past a naturalist’s scene,
Middle season commenced and arose a close breeze,
Nature’s face radiates grand warmth so keen,

Yet yellow turned to black, turned to grey threw white,
Adjustment of surge urged another side:
“Let’s challenge the Natural, Let’s put up a fight!”
And Man succeeded in accomplishing pride,
He castrated the terrain with dynamite!
Now the half-past dead of the end reside,

What once enclosed innocence emits irrelevance,
And chose to propose freeway in flight,
Lies in a flask of human dependence,
Thus fallen and darkened; forging all might.

Now lies no commons, only built residence,
Hence loud went thunder that upraised a fence,
Protruding a condo; erasing all confidence,
The Conceiver of this shelter has lacked common sense!