He's a Poet who Don't Know It.

[tectak]

He's a Poet Who Don't Know It (Free-ranging allowed, creative comments appreciated)

He's a poet who don't know it; Have you been reading my crits? Is this a Dylan cliche?
it's not of relevance to him, You can and should end this sentence here. Why cantilever words into unstable structures when natural law says that you have made a single point?
his pride he thinks to stature win. A sentence; and a good one, if inverted it is. Give it credit.
He seeks a mentor to guide his place
to please his clique, promote his face. Hang on. How does one guide a place? You are enraptured with the poetic amour. Calm down and make sense. He seeks a mentor to secure/locate/define/ assert/ fix...I could go on but I would never say "guide"
His mind profound but lacking liberty, but me no buts. "and" or "though" would be unarguable. You imply that profundity somehow has an accepted affinity with libertarian thought. I don't.
possessed to win applause and flattery. Wot possesses?
On stage he plied the written words of art,
divided from his self part; a broken heart Wot is a self part?
that questions, is he now upon the stage,
or words and heart in life engaged? Dangerously close to gobbledygook. Needs clarity of meaning as this is not supposed to be obscure by intent.

For he's a poet who don't know it.
He seeks to best the common place. How does one best a place? Sorry. I am a pedant.
His aging ass would like to grace
a comfy padded rocking chair;
with, what else, poetic flair. Excellent
For one with practiced wits as he
who casts his nets with subtlety
and care; he tires then ascends the stair
and breathless falls upon a chair; Excellent again
with age, though aspirations debonair. Not excellent
Should he grasp the naked phantom there
and be the poet, and in his glory
smile to know it? Neither excellent nor crap. I don't get it.Should I?

Still, it's buried in his heart apart, AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH! Wot is "it"? You do not say. Should I guess? OK. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No. It sings...is it Kylie Minogue? I give up. Wot is it?
and though it sings within his head;
he has no ear to hear, but fears to know it. OK. Best I don't know. It is too frightening. It isn't Kylie, is it?
Yet, he is on fire within, of life's desires;
but seeking safety he conspires
to trample out those restless fires. The fire word is spreading[/b
With all of everything, his age to doubt,
the decades growing thin without;[b] Forced rhyme. You can't fool me
despite what dims the outer rim, Loretta, I need to talk to you about rims. In private. It's for your own good.You are a nice lady.
his secret treasure hides within, and sadly
still, he's a poet who don't know it.

Well, unless this piece is about Dylan Dementia I have no idea of the point but I think it may be about me. Or Dale. Or Milo.Or Billy. Or..or....
Best,
tectak( I can spell what)