Pretentious. That's the word. Yes, it can seem so.
Who is this great Sam I am so full of self-import,
this great pretender who deigns to tell of life and lives,
as though they have anymore lived more than I, or you.
Why do their words matter? Do they provide comfort,
rhythm or profit? Does verse nourish hearts and minds,
body and soul? A machine has these not, never will code
approach beauty, and who says beauty matters anyway.