A Modern Poet's Lament

Sum es est, sumus estes sunt.—Professorus Jamesus Smithus

O Muse, what ails you as of late?
You seem distraught by those who write
Fresh rambles, like this one,
Which was conceived with such spontaneous (if scanty) thought
While I was lying in bed
Pondering the state of the world
While chewing on a bagel
Which had more onions than Argus had eyes,
And Argus was that Titan that Hermes slew—
Why, I can't remember,
But I know he played and played until Argus fell asleep
And I see that you're getting tired too;
Maybe you should have a bagel,
And maybe you shouldn't have stayed awake last night
Pondering the state of the world
Which grows yet more distraught
Over the fresh rambles of Titans,
But instead
You should have gone to bed.
     (
          Argh! A rhyme!—
          But that's so passé
          So cliché
          [
               O foul crime! Another rhyme!
               {
                    Egad! I did it yet another time!
               }
          ]
     ) ‡
I just can't stop; it is like Fate.
O Muse, what ails you as of late?

‡ See how modern and clever I am, using computer programming formalism in a poetic work!!