"Poets Are Wankers"

Okay, before we start, I don't think that.

But a friend said: "Poets are Wankers"

And she IS one, for God's sake! - 

And even she doesn't care for some twat

Prattling on and on and on about

Love, Honour, Reason, Summer.

Loads of other GCSE English Lit Shit.

Shit no-one but the examiner cares about.

And only then because he gets his pay

For reading sentences like:

"Carol Ann Duffy says onions are like love or something because they make you cry and that."

All fucking day, 

As a job... 

And if he was - incidentally -

Marking this one, by the way, he'd probably

Mark me down for rhyming "About"

At the end of line five, 

with the word on the end 

Of line eight; "About"

(See? There!

I've done it again! 

I don't Care!)

Or mark me down for not having it rhyme all the way through,
Or having some lines too long and improper, use, of commas, and bad syntax, and not correctly employing caesura, complication, connotation, allegory, alliteration, assonance - except, I do!

Back to the point...

Poets. Wankers.

It seems, there just are no

other uses for them. 

(Though, to be fair, I didn't think about it for long)

They aren't really much the kind

Of artist who translate well 

Into any other form 

Of expressive art, you'll find.

"Leave them to their poems"

I say. It's the only thing for them.

They deserve far more praise for it!

Nothing at all rhymes with 'Poems'.

Shoving stuff together, and 

Making it fit, making it rhyme,

It's not easy, you know. 

I can't bloody do it. Sand.

(I take my hat off to 'em.)