sorry tennyson

i read the old poets,

the old

school poems,

the sages of times long past.

the language

obscure and difficult,

the meaning

lost

and muddled by years

and culture, in a world

that turns

so fast.

i read the old poets,

dusting off the dust,

and try,

i try so hard to get on

board, and see what all

the academia fuss is about,

but get 

nowhere, and instead

take a different route,

and babble on incessantly,

like this.