Waste Words Poem by David Welch

Some words arranged, a worthless waste,
that's what I call Finnegan's Wake.

Is it English? I say not,
bereft of sanity, story, plot…

Some say it's great and sing its praises,
clamor on that it amazes,

I think perhaps they fear to show
that this emperor has no clothes.

They will not say it's all a ploy,
this love for addled words of Joyce.

They fear so great to look not smart
that they call the unreadable ‘art.'

They'd be better off reading deplored
cowboy tales of Louis Lamore.