A verse goes something like "actually do it and everyone leers" or "actually do something and everyone judges you"

I think it's a continuation of some verse that implies that people just watch on or enjoy as they judge a harassment or fight in front of them.

This isn't in the video poems "The Printing Machine" or "Dear Men".

Simply take the words you wrote,
then edit to a musical note!

As I focus
on my many
"Good ideas"
Poetry forms,
leaping up from
those ashes of my fears!

Now I know
how to place
these words!
Because I've
been shown by
"The Poetry birds!"

Ideas bubble,
up from my mind
from time to time!
Amazingly and
Amazing me...
"They do so actually rhyme!"

I just jot down
a simple few words,
then I must train them
to sing like the birds!

Any old words
will do!
Watch poetry
flutter unto you!
Toss in SPONTANEITY,
peppered with a
quaint old point of view!

Gorgeous!

The moon whispers...
The stars chatter...
The flowers sway...
in the wind, dancing,
as if the news of
"World Peace"
approached them
a little too early!

And here I am!
Living off...
My own self asteem
and breathing in
the unique aroma of paper!
I guess...
I'll even whisper back,
to the peacefully lonely moon!

I know I am
The ***** Problem
Being wined and dined,
Answering the usual questions
That come to white mind
Which seeks demurely
To Probe in polite way
The why and wherewithal
Of darkness U.S.A.--
Wondering how things got this way
In current democratic night,
Murmuring gently
Over fraises du bois,
"I'm so ashamed of being white."

The lobster is delicious,
The wine divine,
And center of attention
At the damask table, mine.
To be a Problem on
Park Avenue at eight
Is not so bad.
Solutions to the Problem,
Of course, wait.

Please help any answer helps

The sea is flecked with bars of grey
The dull dead wind is out of tune,
And like a withered leaf the moon
Is blown across the stormy bay.

Etched clear upon the pallid sand
The black boat lies: a sailor boy
Clambers aboard in careless joy
With laughing face and gleaming hand.

And overhead the curlews cry,
Where through the dusky upland grass
The young brown-throated reapers pass,
Like silhouettes against the sky.