Sketches pt 1

This is a WhIP (work in progress) and I'm looking for feedback on it.

I can not be called a poet
There are many reasons for me to say this
I've tried so hard to read and envelope myself in the Masters works and words
To learn, to understand, to emulate and be enlightened
I always come away empty handed and heavy hearted
Unable to bypass their pretentious expositions
Empty of any substance
Hollow in their insipid acquiescence towards academia
Relying on meter and form and vernacular
These cunning linguists, with their poetry
Leave me longing for the complex perplexity of childrens' songs
And the cacophony and din of the rabble rousers in my punk rock collection

I know by writing this, I conspire with hypocrisy
And I do this with full knowledge
That sarcasm is, of all things
The hollow retort of the weak willed mind
But it will have to do, by me for you
When all I would have left besides this
Would be a middle finger, or two

So if what I do isn't poetry
Then what is it that I am doing
Am I just thee lowly wordsmith
Unrefined and uncouth
With a penchant for putting my foot in mouth
Fencing with a pencil
Biting the tongue with the cheek
With a heart too big to wear on my sleeve
And even if it could
All it would do is bleed
Trying to succeed, but I only succeed to fail
I'm out of step with my peers
The icy feeling of isolation haunts every letter

Author's Note

I don't know what i'm doing with this one, or where its going for that matter, hence sketches as a running title ... blarg!!! Too wordy, but that is kind of the point.

Reviews

[Sastina]

I like your form, or lack thereof. Good visualization, quite honest. Your writing strikes me as raw, not in a bad way though. Raw as in lacking in structure, but full of substance.