Pondering Poetry Annotated

You obtain a seed, and lo and behold there’s a tree
A cognitive seed conceived, that to me is poetry
Still the psychological gallows swings as the raven sings
Nevertheless, Lenore is nevermore, there for all to see

Once upon a midsummers midnight dream so dreary
A poetic codex of demons is pondered, a literary query
A black crystal, translucent, while my face drips blood o’ so teary
Of course, nothing is what it appears to be, but still it appears to me

Indeed, trapped in a cognitive dissonance, so fragile with impotence
As the clock strikes 13, the scene dissolves to dusty wisps of innocence
A synthesis of wickedness, the mischievous incubus, infamous for indolence
An asynchronous experience, everywhere but nowhere, teeming with omnipotence

A crescent of candles surrounds a cloaked silhouette
Seated next to a row of bones around a rusty coronet
Whispering prayers backwards, chanting death’s sobriquet
Then, accompanied by pale moonlight, performs the devil’s minuet

Is this the habitual ritual to achieve the immaculate poem?
Is there some kind of spoken incantation or a miraculous omen?
Is there some kind of enchanted amulet or is it all some kind of maculate hokum?
No, for the greatest way to show them is to simply ponder a poem

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