The Gifted Poet is Still dead

The gifted poet was a blog of deliberately bad poetry for contest. The gifted poet is dead. I killed him.

WHO IS YOUR SUGAR DADA

A is a hoarse
of course of course…

unless it’s the postmodern
French Hobby- horse….

…I really have no ideas to day
but feel i got something to say
Jibberish jabberish, jabbberwaky
Osho, Carol, Pokeman Karoke….

….priest , a rabbi, Richard Dawkins
Walk in to a bar
as I play “killing me softly”
on my Piccaso air guitar….

…Fast and Bulbous
The Mascara Snake….
…click this ad
for a cash rebate?…

…love and porn
gin and whiskey
Eating

Makes me mighty frisky…

HORTON HEARS A HO

My psychiatrist asked me,
“Now just what is that?”
“You mean on my head doc?
Its just my tin foil hat”

“…My lover has been sending
secret messages to me’
It penetrates my brain
in waves of electricity”

my psychiatrist ask me
“Now just what does ’she’ say?”
“I owe her thirty dollars
and i better well pay.”

I met her one night
On a strange Internet site
We interact though a “web cam”
from the dawn into the night.

My psychiatrist than said,
“I’d sure like to help
Now Your Mind is confused
I’m concerned for your health!”

“Oh don’t worry bout me”
I said to my concerned doc
‘I’m practicing safe cyber-sex
I’m wearing a tinfoil jock.”