Pretentious prose
takes the form of a poem.
It thinks itself grand.
Look at my vocabulary!
My sentence structure,
are you compelled
by it?
Lofty heights it reaches for
yet most is substandard,
inadequate to be comtemplated.
Or is it that you
don’t get it?
That must be it
for there never was a poem
which did not compel,
did not find contemplation.
Even if it as just for
those few seconds
it took you to read
the disjointed lines
and words.
-MKM 6/2/18
Give God Your Yes 