sometimes i’m a bear,
or a solid oak tree.
sometimes only i know,
what i mean.
other times,
every wasted poet,
in panties,
knows what i mean.
on their knees,
nursing milk from me.
sometimes i am buddha.
other times,
i’m the better fuck.
with blood red eyes,
without sin.
it’s not easy,
being a queer poet.
i lick balls,
eat ass,
blow cocks,
so not to be equal.
a poet’s sperm,
is full of lies.
like the one
before him,
and the poet,
before him.
there are
cinderella poets,
always virgin.
with circumsized rhyme.
the agitated fem,
shares suicide verse.
the beautiful whore,
slams his poem.
i am well read.
the white poet,
cannot be black.
black poems are long.
the mexican is mauled
by a bear.
in the shade,
of a solid oak tree.
his poems,
are delicious.

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