Does My Grey Matter, Matter?

Vocabulary constrains communication in obvious ways.  The other side of the coin: vocabulary enables communication -- and not simply in the sense that, armed with new words, you can say things you couldn't say before -- but you can think things you couldn't think before.

In one of my more recent pieces the finishing line states, "For you four nothing fore me."

The line is a linguistic example of antanaclasis, the stylistic trope of repeating a single word, but with a different meaning each time.  Some seem to believe that my usage of syntactic ambiguity is a means of writing under a guise, it has even been suggested that I may not possess the skills to express myself without the cloak of "pretty words" or metaphors.  I admit that at first I was quite offended upon reading these critiques of my poetry, but soon the realization that maybe I was just obscenely vague and arrogant with my words came over me and I decided to take a step out of the box and look at my work as a whole.  After many grueling days studying my words and researching the origins of language I came to conclusion that indeed, I write in an extremely grey tone of voice.  I also came to a rather comfortable state of mind in regard to my work.  I found that clearly this grey matter, if you don't mind me saying, is involved in all such richness and heightening of effect, and the machinations of ambiguity are among the very roots of poetry.  Therefore, though often quite vague, my poetry is only as arrogant as one who would dare critique my work from under a mask of anonymity.