Early one morning, I
Found myself staring at a woman...

My mother has beaten me in weight,
this nasty thing that has become a game...

I am walking to New York,
When, suddenly...

A young man named Jack
oh how he liked to...

A poem. A poem?
Er, I dislike poetry...

I know that I wrote like that once
All the same cliches...

I am watching you
on my miniture tele...

With smoky eyes I give my plea
I did these things involuntarily...

I am the spinning,
she is the spun...

Another time I write a poem
Creating words for language arts...

Its the rush and release
With cold acts of desperation...

Some people write their poetry
with quite astounding mediocrity...