There's a saying of which I'm fond: "Don't ick someone's yum." The nonsexual equivalent of "No kinkshaming," it means to try not to demean things that others find enjoyable because you don't enjoy it. I preface what I'm writing here, as I don't intend to belittle free verse poetry.

Free verse poetry can be impactful. Bud Osborn's "raise shit" is an incredibly powerful piece on gentrification and the violence of displacement, and this is owed in part to the fact that there isn't any structure that must be obeyed (although most free verse poems tend to have patterns). 

There lies a danger, however, in assuming that free verse poetry is written to be profound, while structured poetry is written to be appealing.  When it comes to insight and appeal, free verse and structured poetry can be written for both, either, or neither reason. 

I personally prefer structure over free verse as it comes more naturally for me. Moreover, filling meter with filth and positively pornographic material is fun, and it's not something I've often seen done. 

If there's anything to be drawn from the poem below, it's that no one gets to decide that what you've written isn't poetry.


Degeneracy
When you don't give structure to a poem, 
	it seems as though you've just taken 
		what was written before 
			and rearranged it. 
				What was one prose, 
					full of capitalization, 
						punctuation,
						 	order, 
								and lines, 
									has now become poetry—or has it? 
										If all you've done is change the way it's read, 
											well, then clearly you've achieved poetic effect. 
												And, it's true: 
												rhythm can be invoked through cutting and interrupting; 
											but if the words are now validated by your contrarian perception, 
										who has become the elite? 
									Has your lack of capitalization, 
								punctuation, 
							order, 
						and lines 
					truly freed the writer? 
				Or has it become its own rigid structure, 
			where there is no capitalization, 
		little punctuation, 
	strict order, 
and many lines?


And now, back to our regularly scheduled filth. 


Desk Job

A sheltered and spotted young 'yeen /

Was keen to break into the scene /

So when a rabbit named Rob /

Offered him a desk job / 

He missed the meaning obscene /



It came as quite a surprise /

To be told that he needed no ties /

So stripped and below /

An attended bureau /

He found himself 'twixt a man's thighs /



Excited and somewhat afraid /

The 'yeen was intrigued and obeyed /

They'd come in his muzzle /

(Which he'd gladly guzzle) /

Then the tables the workers would trade /



When Rob asked him later to stay /

And assured overtime he would pay /

Back flat on the table /

The 'yeen was unable /

To stay still as Rob rutted away.

-Charles Michael Averin