Thursday, July 16, 2009
Ralph Waldo Lamerson
Do not mock Ralph Waldo, for he has the soul of poet. Only the body of a douche.
In his spare time, Ralph pours his heart out as free verse in a ragged notebook he carries with him:
“Yo, I need food. Is KFC still open?”
“Where da bitches at?”
“Dag. My armpits smell like prune.”
Do not let the star tatts fool you. It is the free verse of a street poet.
Hers is the perky smile of a young, confused doe. She has wandered into the path of her street poet, only to think to herself pensively, “He thinks I look like Katie Price! Katie Price is like OMG!!”
OMG, indeed, young doe.
OMG.
