If men read epic poetry in bed,
And never change their Eeyore underwear,
On bunny kidney they’ve unwisely fed:
That’s whorehouse food, and most unwholesome fare.

If lotus eaters kick spondaic asses,
And love trochaic bunny ears the best,
It starts a war between the lower classes
And puts poetic hooey to the test.

If op art poet laureates go bald,
And end up haunting Fred on Scooby-Doo,
It’s they who to a nunnery are hauled:
They have some vinyl bunny ears for you.

On Yahoo! you are only who you are,
And no one there is anyone… so far.