Nobody Talks In Iambic Pentameter Poem by Raymond Farrell

Nobody talks in iambic pentameter
Even a drill sergeant
In top form
Couldn't pull it off
And rhymers are restricted
To pen and paper
If they ran around
The live long day
Blathering and rhyming away
They would quickly
Find themselves alone
And deemed strange or insane
But exchanging the above
For the incomprehensible
Is not a solution
But merely exchanging
One problem for another
It is not the form that matters
But the lack of real substance
Deliberately put forth
By those who wish
To remain aloof
To the true state of the world
In which they live.