Flutters That Don't Matter Poem by John Sensele

Spell for me the hell
I create of late for you, mate
So I can ring a string of nice news and tell
My conscience to embrace a sensual science in a cosy crate

Without the repose, gauze or pause I cause
A new paradigm to trim
Excesses that press and suppress my Rose
When I deem it over the rim

In my behavior and endeavour
To labour to live and give
My sure shot towards a flavor
That metamorphoses my move

Towards an improvement in development
In matters that clutter your butter
When I behave and strive to cement
Habits and honours that in your sight don't matter.