I read some Modern poetry today
and considered some Modern art
then discovered a truth about myself —
I guess I’m not that smart!
I couldn’t make sense of the poem’s words
and the paint blobs left me baffled.
I know I’m supposed to see beauty and truth
but I strain and I struggle and I grapple.
So, I guess I’ve come to the conclusion that,
like the little boy who knows,
for all the praise of his finery,
the emperor’s not wearing clothes!