Anyway, this poem's quite odd because possibly of the split: It splits into two parts of 22 and 8 lines each, and that split has nothing to do with poeticity: But it has got something to do alright! I mean it's not just a stupid move, but it has some meaning, that doesn't even touch upon the poetic aspect of poems :P
Twenty Two: The number that's flashing on the post - I wish not to comment upon that. Yes I did edit this post, this was not how it was when I first wrote the post, but 22 has turned my life over!!! (And that's all I can say!)
Salutations to my dear folk who wish to pass;
This gate’s the way in for all, be it lad or lass.
All aboard the express ‘cause we’re riding the road home,
Everything’s an abode here, beneath the azure dome.
This World’s a world that gives one piece of bread,
To all those alive of course, let’s not touch upon the dead;
Alone they need to be, for that’s why they went!
Sans the association or force, or having been sent
Matters not, for it’s still a point of no return,
And talking about them is as handy as talking to a fern.
So let’s drop it for mercy’s sake, let’s put our socks
In it; and buddy, you forgot to drop a coin in that box…
Be it of the people, by, for or even not,
What matters most is not what you are but what you’ve got
Even here in my world, yessirree - money matters;
This tube’s for the roomy, not the one in tatters,
‘Cause economics and humanity are two different things;
Furthermore, the one trying to link the separately forged rings
Is a fool and nothing short. And the reason why I say
All these things is because they lie in my way,
As I spin my tale. No worries for me, I bundle them together
Into one good roll, like a bunch of gathered heather.
That’s how my tale begins, dear folks,
For left my way, I discuss thought processes, and no jokes,
Really! This one’s serious – something you ought to ponder,
For you’d start to hate the world and not grow fonder,
After I finish my narrative, what I’ve come here to tell.
It’s full of disaster and unfortunate circumstances, and well…
Gosh! I see your impatience, an indication is your din;
So with a salute to Maupassant, now I shall begin…