Once removed from the music, the lines have little rhythm. The timing is all wrong. And that's because the words aren't allowed to do the work themselves. There is nothing remotely radical or challenging in this book. It is doubly ironic to read Mitchell noting that an issue of the New Statesman carrying McCartney poems sold 'several thousand' more copies.
Nude pictures sell magazines.
The desire to conflate this with leftist ideals is an insult to the Left. But that's the extent of it. As it happens, it is an archival document and disembodied song-book of some interest. It is an artefact. Social and environmental conscience is at work, but it often seems like lip-service.