This one took a lot of turns. I thought what if Dr. Seuss was a stoner. It would explain a few things.
I pondered a list of rhymes. What if I wrote a illustrated story book like “Green eggs and ham”? (With my ADHD? Not likely)
Okay, Edna writes a Haiku about pot.
Wait a minute. What’s the deal about pot? I never liked the stuff, it made me paranoid and spacey. Something with which I already struggle, so the effect is intensified redundancy.
But, being high can be funny. Stoners are goffy. (I submit Cheech and Chong)
Limericks. I love limericks, and Haiku, and Dr. Susse. Not exactly high art.
But, I confess, I really don’t get poetry. Sorry, no offense, but half the stuff I read makes no sense to me. It is as if half the story is hidden. I feel left out, like the poet and readers have an inside gag going and I am on the outside.
I feel the same with songs, and abstract art. I am just a simple guy, I drive a truck for a living! All the hidden meaning, assumed background knowledge!
What if no one really “gets” it, and everyone is just faking. The “Emperor’s New Clothes”.
Then again, maybe it is just me. Like a colorblind guy trying to understand a rainbow.