A Poem
 

I am a fan of Japan and do all I can, to be a man, who try, to became a samuray and fly to the sky. Then I go down as a clown in the dawn. On the ground I am bount to count an amount of sound, which I found.There's no crime in prime time in the light of lime. I hope I get the job on the slope from which I drop to the mob with the cop and the soap to clean the globe.

Seriously though, I must ask in what inspiration you bask? Could it be, hath love struck, pushed thee by cupids arrow into whimsy's muck?