Your writing is crazy,
you crazy, old lout.
Don't be so lazy,
give a loud shot.
Let your old mind,
run free as the breeze.
It is not kind,
listening to you wheeze.
You reach for a word,
eluding this prose.
Keep in mind, all flowers
smell not like a Rose.
Do what you do,
don't just suppose.
Get off your rear;
at this I arose
and out to the garden
where everything grows.