Opening Crescendo: A book of verse by a poet of no repute

So, beware, for poetry is just recited in public,
but read and felt in a solitude,
and scorned at with ruthless attitude,
or appreciated as words from a touched dude,

for the dude was once blind,
now so touched, that he may see,
maiming himself, writing poetry,

and musing that he be a prince,
most vocal of all the vermin,
a pleasure to read, a sight to see,

for details, await, the further sayings,
the vulgar works of Dada, a monkey,

or you may if preferred,
write an adequate reply,
damn near impossible!

Or just call me,
but you don't know me!

Or email, if pleased be!

Regards AZD;