let it flow poetry rule number one is to have no rules or rhythm meter can go to hell as can all else that flows not in the flow of poetry let the poem rise and fall with the cadence of time and times a time that each moment should be a monument of monstrosity so that every poet is raised up like a feather in the wind and cast about tossed this way and that till there is not more feather dust left but only the quill with which to write all the wrongs that have been done unto the poor poet in whose poetry is nothing but the quiet desperation and wild rage of a contemplative soul lost forever in the devils embrace