Parental Advisory

Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we propose to posit prose poetry
forming a form of continuous connectivity,
to communicate considerable contemplative reflectivity.

Simply put, we pose this where
prose poetry is what you’ll hear
when wondering where the time went
while reading such rhyme wonderments
as oft are wrought, and revealed thusly,
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.


Picture this: Maybe... Perhaps...
If reading results in a time lapse, 
then when you hear rhythmic word taps 
you bridge the gaps twixt each synapse. 

That's how we’re hardwired, inherently. 
Reading rhymed words can, apparently,
cause our minds tiny explosions
as said rhymes reveal the notions 
that we base our future acts on
using our dendrites and axons.

That’s just simple super-symmetry “Hi” energy, related 
in a way that one could say has been telemetrically translated. 
As you read prose poetry, your mind becomes a thing 
whereby the why before each “Hi” restores faith in superstring.
That can sound quite confusing, so I’ll be using this example 
to show how it's done, how rhymes can run. Pardon the pun-ish sample: 

I’m both a poetic genius,
and prosaically savant,
so in terms of what transpires between us, 
I can appear to be piquant.

Here’s a self-made observation 
from myself when I say “Hi”
to simply show a how relationship
without explaining why, 

because to say why “Hi” relates 
would sound a bit old-fashioned, 
not unlike the why once stated 
in The Fly wrote Ogden Nash on. 

A salutation assignation 
is my reasoned explanation 
for this verse's appellation, 
i.e. why it's titled “Hi”.

Before any affirmation 
of specific correlation 
to my current situation, 
look beside the Constellation
Don’t let this chance pass you by. 

Then, as you look within, begin 
to read what’s written down, and 
see exactly why it's known that “Hi”
 is very much like propounding 
that a verse can serve, yet be reserved 
for those who would think funny
sounding little things. A riddle brings 
this rhyme to conclusion. See?

I’ve simply posed my fingers on 
specific prose with which are con- 
fidently illustrated facts 
relating both to Jills and Jacks.
In trade, I've spent some time misspelling 
my own name, and for tone telling.

Consider that a tone’s core-E
is MC2, “Hi” pitched like me,
and just as I have said before, 
a tone in tune, intent to bore 
through muddled minds and humbled heads 
as remedial rhymes pass through instead. 

“Hi” consciousness, it can now be said 
by word of mouth, from head to head, 
is something that without a doubt 
by reading this, has you psyched out; 
for through these words you see the bond 
between the conner, and being conned. 

My name, so you'll know, 'cause I'm less than discrete, 
can be found here within, entirely and complete. 
In reference to “Hi”, now and henceforth, 
are two facts that you can't simply choose to ignore.
1. I'm pleased to meet you.
2. Indeed, it's my honor. 
By the way, let me say, “Hi”,
I’m “Jacks core-E conner”.