poetic rebuttal to a freestyler on the bus

Friday night was, unusually for me, an unpleasant day at work. Stuff that doesn't usually get to me got to me; I became flummoxed and cranky and was even emoting unpleasantly to my ladies. Very disappointed in myself. I was on my long bus ride home, trying to write a poem to work out my tension and get calm again, when a young man in the back started freestyling. This is something I've seen, or rather heard, before, and ordinarily it fills me with joy. "Poetry is not dead!" I think. "It's just here on the buses and in the streets where people can use it!" Friday, though, it mostly annoyed, because although he didn't mention me as such his words evinced a general disdain for his fellow passengers which irritated me, and was difficult not to take personally. So I wrote this rebuttal. Which I chickened out and didn't give or read to the fellow, but eh. XD At least I get to post it here. It's short as all get out, but in future if I revisit the form I'll go longer.

I have no idea what to do with line breaks, since it's freestyle style with very few pauses for breath. So don't pay too much attention to line breaks; I recommend reading aloud "for best results." ;)


so many words I heard in streets and buses
redefining who us is by the words, the verbs, they swerve
like wheels, you feel that they deserve
to flow, it takes a poet to bind the mind,
a speaker to see the weak speech
and turn it into strong, the meek gain the reach
to right the wrongs of the cold-blooded town,
old rain flooded down
into closed minds that should be open, I'm hopin'
that you find a better sound