WHAT’S THE ANSWER (a rift)

(…hats off to Bob Dylan and his song, Blowin’ in the Wind…)

How many revisions must I walk down
searching for the metaphorical crown?
How many seas must a smart-ass seagull skim,
before basking in the tide’s baneful brim?
Yes ‘n’ how many times must a squirrel scream
before I FINALLY get what it means?
The smell of flowers is drifting in the wind,
disrupting the monologue in my mind…

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The Un-prompt

Don’t push me — no prodding or pummeling.
Don’t try to persuade with your pleasant propaganda. Don’t pursue ME.
Your point is well-taken. Perhaps one day, it’ll be compelling propelling;
I’ll put the pedal to the metal. But if you pick Pick PICK at me much longer,
I’ll punch you in the eye. Your prompt will become an UN-PROMPT.
Psychological pitter-patter, putter mutter, mumbo jumbo —
I DON’T LIKE BEING PUSHED.