'There once was a man from Nantucket........' 
man. i was afraid that poem was going to be like The Song That Never Ends. LOL
That’s a work of art, to change it would destroy it’s essence.
I’m aware some stare at my hair.
In fact, to be fair,
Some really despair of my hair.
But I don’t care,
Cause they’re not aware,
Nor are they devonaire.
In fact, they’re just square.
They see hair down to there,
Say, “Beware” and go off on a tear!
I say, “No fair!”
A head that’s bare is really nowhere.
So be like a bear, be fair with your hair!
Show it you care.
Wear it to there.
Or to there.
Or to there, if you dare!
My wife bought some hair at a fair, to use as a spare.
Did I care?
Au contraire!
Spare hair is fair!
In fact, hair can be rare.
Fred Astair got no hair,
Nor does a chair,
Nor nor a chocolate eclair,
And where is the hair on a pear?
Nowhere, mon frere!
So now that I’ve shared this affair of the hair,
I’m going to repair to my lair and use Nair, do you care?
—George Carlin
There are 4-year-olds who could do better.
'There once was a man from Nantucket........'
Sounds like she might have been channeling Jim Morrison (The Doors) during some acid trip that went bad for her:
An American Prayer (by Jim Morrison)
Do you know the warm progress
Under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys
To the kingdom?
Have you been borne yet
& are you alive?
Let’s reinvent the gods,
All the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
[have you forgotten the lessons
Of the ancient war]
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees
Of the forest,
Our mother is dead in the sea
.......
O great creator of being
Grant us one more hour to
Perform our art
& perfect our lives
The moths & atheists are doubly divine
& dying
We live, we die
& death not ends it
Journey we more into
The nightmare
Cling to life
Our passion’d flower
.......
Minor league poem by a minor league talent....
Change is nigh, Hope is high, Pundits sigh, and Bush says: "bye, bye." Power is lost, Power is gained, Peaceful transfer, Is that the answer? Some go to parties, dances and balls, Some stay at home, looking at walls, We see many so overwhelmed that they weep, But as for me, I'll just hang with my FReeps.
Who sold some coke as a teen, yeah!
He baffled the sheep
Helped by media creeps
And to his crook friends he says "be seein' ya."
Roses are red
Violets are blue
This day really sucked
It’s almost over, woohoo
I think I did better then the poet :)
Economics so wrong
It was such a Sad Song
Jimmy Carter sounded like Enya!
How about this one?
Jane Fonda's red
Violets are blue
Stalin is dead
I wish she were, too
This poem sucks $h!t. How much did we pay for this?
The sad part is that it will win all kinds of awards....
This is what the lovely inaugural poem reminded me of:
Dark and lonely on a summer’s night
Kill my landlord
Kill my landlord
Watchdog barking
Do he bite?
Kill my landlord
Kill my landlord
Slip in his window
Break his neck
Then his house
I start to wreck
Got no reason
What the heck
Kill my Landlord
Kill my landlord
C-I-L-L
my l a n d l o r d
—Tyrone Green (a.k.a. Eddie Murphy)
THE FACELESS GROW DEATH GRABS THE FLOWER.
WHERE IS THE HOT LIGHT?
NEVER PUSH A TRUCK.
WHY DOES THE WINDOW GO?
WHERE IS THE SMALL WINDOW?
O, OOH TURD!
WHERE IS THE MISTY LIGHT?
JACKHAMMERS FAITH LIKE RAINY HUSTLES.
THE COLD RUN FAITH GETS THE DRIVER.
DAMN, AH TURD!
TALK ROUGHLY LIKE A LOVE CITY.
THE COLD WALK FAITH BUYS THE TRUCK.
NEVER GRAB A TRUCK.
THE FAST TALK EXHAUSTION PUSHES THE STREET.
WHY DOES THE FLOWER SHRINK?
THE ROUGHLY WALKS LIKE A FAST GIRL.
WALK CALMLY LIKE A SELL WINDOW.
THE QUIETLY RUNS LIKE A DARK CORNER.
NOISE IS A NOISY TRUCK FAT.
WORK IS A COLD LIGHT FAT.
WHERE IS THE DEAD DRIVER?
THE CALMLY SHOPS LIKE A DARK CIGARETTE.
FACELESS, MISTY CORNERS ROUGHLY SELL A RAINY, HOT SKYSCRAPER.
Makes as much sense as the crap she wrote.
This poem smacks of wealth redistribution...only struggling Americans, children and underpaid teachers are mentioned...it implies that anyone rich and successful is not capable of love.
Why not just read the 13th chapter of 1 Corinthians?
More vision and sensitivity in the instruction manual for my HD TV.....
Upon a field of white now lies the single gauntlet, thrown Cacaphony, pain-ed prose, impov'rished, by thy pen pwn3d