This poem is meaningless drivel
It has essentially no meaning
On a paper that will shrivel
Or servers wiped with popularity weaning
 
These are a couple bits
Or a collection of words ignored
Written in a set of hits
Of hands against a keyboard
 
Present before a digit in anticipation
Was placed upon the ugly plastic
Whether previously used in dictation
It was known by a universe inelastic
 
What will this ever achieve,
Read by few and soon dismissed
Regardless of phrases it may weave
Another story thrown into the mist
 
Not written with enlightened sobriety
It stands not to change society
It is another echo in the fog
Merely to another a prologue
 
As this is written there is another
Somewhere else, that will be the mother
Of many pieces less dull
Yet this poem’s impact will certainly be null
 
Throw these words into the haze
Perhaps to be reinterpreted in many days
Do not accept another meaning said
This poem is clear as it is read
 
As it was made it will disappear
To little response whether jeer or cheer
Dragging on perhaps too long
It will go out without a song
 
For the meaning in this literary abatement,
There is a simple explanation, only one
There is a clear and basic statement
To this piece so convoluted, there is none