A Poem Without Rhythm

This poem has no rhythm. It doesn't even rhyme either.

Flowing like a cattle grass stout animal in a pasture.

Free-styling lab coats sink mighty ships in minds related to gravy and chemistry research.

Tattooed Martian concoctions slink clumsily through the ice rink in a mellow-dramatic manner.

Panthers with stripped polka dots on their fur run pitifully like wind gushing out of a gorge nastily.

End Poem Abruptly.

Hmm. Did I succeed? That might be the question.

Hey that's like a band without a bass player and a drummer.

Nay, we need not judges telling us where to stop, where to pick up,

Be free,

Shim

[Wolfe of Wildwood]

lol, I like it. made no sense, so makes ya think! :]