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.


If you take away sorrows, sadnesses, and pains,
  then all you'll have left are just human remains.
If just humans remain as the bane of insanity,

  it’s plausibly because of their prayers for humanity.

 My humanity seeks to speak out about such stressing,
  so most of this poem 
shows my 
semantic addressing
  of what people must come to terms with, because
 of our wondrous, and thundering claps of applause.

Claps of applause cause us pause, and we listen
as both left and right hands unite in their mission
of sound, resounding loud, crisp and clear
to those one supposes are near enough to hear.