We Deign to Condemn this Author

We award flat and flaccid floundering verse

Rather prolix, never terse

Meandering musings are our curse

The author of this belongs in a hearse


We hope to see him feeling worse

To aspiring writers we’re averse

Their ascension seems perverse

Ask for grants; we close our purse


We love odd things, all things diverse

But certain rules we won’t traverse

Rhyming bards we will not nurse

Their rants we won’t reimburse


These haughty edicts we won’t reverse

No solace will we ever disburse

With Daivd Gottfried we won’t converse

Into solipsism he’ll submerse


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1998


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