On 2022-05-11 9:30 p.m., Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Wednesday, May 11, 2022 at 9:23:56 PM UTC-4,
george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
>> On 2022-05-11 9:34 a.m., Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
>>> On Wednesday, May 11, 2022 at 9:33:32 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
>>>> Now that I have your attention.....one more chance...post a poem on any subject by tonight and I will post a poem on the same subject.
>>>>
>>>> The other two, have been officially labeled 'cowards' to include blow-hards.
>>>>
>>>> Save yourself from humiliation..Mensa man against senile man...same topic (your choice)...See ya after work.
>> Mensa man vs. mentally-ill man. (That's more alliterative, and also more
>> accurate in terms of how we've each described the other in the past.)
>>>>
>>>> SM
>>>
>>> Full new poem, not your found bullshit snippets and link to your list of things.
>> You are just too much, MIM. After I've spent a week arguing against your
>> allies that "writing poetry" is not the same thing as cranking out some
>> shit in 2 minutes, you insist on a shit-cranking competition and on
>> calling it "writing poetry."
>>
>> Very well, I'll crank out some shit for you, and post a link after it's
>> up on RAP. (You should know, as I've asked Mr. Pendragon to remind you,
>> that I haven't been posting poetry on aapc for months and don't plan to.)
>
And here's the link:
> Sorry Georgi, I now consider you a coward along with the rest of your bum club.
>
> I can outwrite you any time, any day, any topic.
Guess Who?
I'm usenet's greatest poet
As everyone will say.
The Village People love my work
And I'm not even gay.
The most prolific poet
The internet has known,
I've written fifty thousand poems
In the last week alone.
I sit at my computer
And dream of South and North,
And just like vomit from a drunk
The poems come rushing forth.
It's sometimes hard to type them,
They all come out so fast,
And some of them are really long
While some are just half-vast.
I've never learned poetics;
I know that I don't need 'em
Because I simply write the poems;
Let other people read 'em.
Oh once Bob Dylan phoned me
But didn't praise my work
So I hung up on him. He's just
A pissbum and a jerk.
I know he's simply jealous,
Like all those guys, of me.
That's why they bury all my stuff;
It's a conspiracy.
I know I could be published
And everyone would buy,
But knowing the conspiracy
Why would I even try?
So I just stay on usenet
Where true success depends,
Not on your money, or your fame,
But on your online friends.
I'm friends with half a dozen
True poets just like me.
Sometimes we write, sometimes we fight
With the conspiracy.
They say my poems are perfect,
And all I have to do
Is thank all six, and tell them all
Their poems are perfect, too.
>
> Post your shit right here, coward.
>
OK, here's the shit.
> or Fuck off.
>