what you need is an old time poet
with latin and greek who loves to show it
velvet cloak, creaky boots
big slouch hat, musty suits
tragic voice that’s just the ticket
eyebrows like a bramble thicket
who writes all day and goes all night
on moonlit walks round the Isle of Wight
for a nod from the Queen, a purse of guineas
seats on luminous literary committees
at Ulysses’ seat we bow to thee
dead of consumption at twenty three

what you need is a modern poet
in a two tone t-shirt
says
no go mango
shit
fuck
you made me
mother was a
moment
a west beach witch
her
teats
a tethering point
last gasp
gutter gimp
lov-e-lee
KKRRRAAANG
infinite
meal metal
mmmm