Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we
propose to posit prose poetry,
forming forms of continuous connectivity
to communicate considerable
contemplative reflectivity.

Simply put, we pose this where
prose poetry is what you'll hear
when wondering where the time went
while reading such rhyme wonderments
as oft we've wrought, and revealed thusly;
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.

Standards & Practices

Read me like a stolen passage. 
Plagiarized within this message 
is a wheel of steel I ride on 
right up front. I am a guidon 
lightning rod, though oddly worded. 

Standing out, I look absurd. Did 
you just see the 'me' I mention, 
or do boring words sow tension 
to your brow, like how you worry 
when you're in a real big hurry? 

I guide on high. I rely on my guidon 
to be by my side, and provide what men died on 
behalf of. The staff of my standard stands tall for me, 
offering all those who call a glimpse of what you see.