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“You call these sweepings poetry? - I wouldn’t wipe my flanks -

With these putrid/puerile pantomimes - These futile/facile wanks!”

Asserted “T.S. Elliot” - about mine humble art -

In the staid and stolid pages, of this week’s “Exchange & Mart.”


“An insult to the intellect of backward buffalo!”

Stated “Ella Wheeler Wilcox” in last February’s “Hello!”


“Will Wordsworth” in “The Lancet” sharpened up his boning knife –

And issued less than subtle threats against this person’s life.


“God save the English language!” – “John Betjeman” averred –

“Lord Byron” in “The Beano” felt I ought to be interred!


“Prison’s much too good for him!” – Said “Keats” in “T.V.Quick.”

Said “Stevie Smith” – “His oeuvre, makes me physically sick!”


“His writing nicely makes the case, for hanging’s swift return!”

Said “Robert Browning” crossly, in the current “Look and Learn.”


“Dylan Thomas” wakened from an alcoholic mirth -

Proclaimed in “Top Gear” magazine - “He’d best been drowned at birth!”


Poor “Andrew Motion” shot himself – And “Seamus Heaney” shit –

His poet’s pants in protest, when they read what I had writ.


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Uploaded on May 8, 2008