Writing a Sonnet at a Kitchen Party

I was going to write a poem about something very great
But then I didn’t, though I still have the urge to write
Something, or something very great; and it could be
Incredibly LITERATE, or INTELLECTUAL (I do not see
Many capitals in poems); and I am now satire or
Parody or rambling or insecurity or undisciplined, with this at least
Demonstrating that I write from nowhere, it being only a continual
Flow, this being my only something existing. Though with it now

I am not going to go on, as I am going to think
Of nothing—formalise nothing—instead, opting,
Instead, to do this repetitive thing here, instead, as

I am going to take bad cocaine off this man
Here
And break
The lines un-
Satis-
Factorily and mention

No classics or metaphys- (steady
Now; hard, isn’t it!) and not poeticise
A needless load of shit.