No! I won’t! I won’t write a poem!
You can’t make me! Nor will I succumb to my desires. No, no, no…
I’m a researcher. That’s right. I seek knowledge and certainty. I seek soundness and completeness. I seek objective truths.
For I see the world in black and white. Atop a ship in a sea of gray,
In absolutes, in truth and beauty I can describe the world.
Still, the mighty roar of the foggy ocean, surrounds me on all sides,
through its cloudy mist light cannot penetrate. I fear what lies beneath the surface.
Einstein was the wisest man alive, as science gives us answers,
or Aristotle, a thinker like no other, with philosophy, more questions,
I search for land, refuge from an infinite sea. I won’t read Coleridge or Whitman or Thoreau.
I’ll remain willfully blind to what can’t be described or learned.
I choose not to forsake my judgement in rhetoric and logic,
lest I should become overpowered by my desires within.
I won’t. I’ll lock the chest and throw away the key.
You won’t get a poem out of me.