Fiction Or Truth

One poem, Can make you Or break you, All you need Is One, To be sung. I told this To my agent, Whose been Hoping, to get me Booked., in some Random theater, In some unknown play About a swan That had no wings But, wanted to fly. He Laughed! And said, 'But One, Does not make a book! ' 'So What! ' I said, 'Nobody Reads anything, Today, anyway Anymore' A long argument ensued! We did not part, As friends. Why did I write This non- sense, Jazz, tonight Suppose it was Just to say And complain. That no matter How you turn it Or what you say There's nothing Normal, around, Today!