This is amusing
Two prolific 'poets' both
One of whom is rude

Not so special
But he keeps on going for it
Respect his effort.

Anyone can write
A bland and putrid Will-ism--
Carpet-stained to boot.

Flowers blanketing soil
Sun ripe for harvesting seeds--
Avoid Will-isms.

Curling will o wisps
Flashing towards the graying sky--
This is Will's style.

Oily bar lizard
Explores noisily leering
Glance insults our eyes

Paint with the mind's eye
This dirty website reaking
Of dreams deferred.

Gaia is our home
For all earth conscious hippies
Drenched in our ti dye.

Whispering soft sands
Deserts silent wondering
Henna

Vocab increases
Yet I am still tangled
By my verbiage.

I just don't get it
Words drift beyond dull mind
What's a Vorlage?

Serene Vorlage waits
Her time in hiding soon past
Wicker Searchers found

Smokey river glides
Earthy obscene eruptions
gaia spewing hot guts

Anonymous
Who never was
And never shall be.

Anonymous rant
Rails like drunken loony
Illiterate

Beaten as a child?
Possibly that's the reason
Why he's desperate.

Has been, gloats, lame flam
Dejected, rant endlessly
Fail pitifully
Sexually your a wast of space)

Back from yoga
His ego's affronted
He knows he can't write.

Stretch, reach for the stars
free this godawful crap
Will's prehaiku thoughts.

Downward dog
I lick my own nuts
My yoga's supreme.

My haikus mean nothing
For I am pretensious Nippress
cravingin attention

A challenge you want
A challenge you shall receive
Babbling yoga freak.

Sexually, Wanting
You still need to prove yourself
Seen nothing good yet
.
Cant Waite forever
Last chance to show us
Wholly up to you
.
All complaints, no Haiku
Its up to you to show us
Bad tutors ignored

Pretenders aren't real
They try to be what they're not
No praise for Nippress.

Desert walk.
Lonely tire, stagnant rainfall...
Guinness Stout?

Come here my darling
Worry not of your parents
You are my toy now

Why such praise for Will?
At first you seem quite annoyed
Then you say he's bad

Clitorus in my button hole
You squeeze my knob and smile
Strange dream

Dreams of young love
Warm embrace
Waking, twas only a pillow

Yearn to paint
No inspiration
Paint everything

So much yoga
Yet so little awareness
The arch pretender.

Poor prolific man
Words do not make the haiku
It's about feeling.

the arts and writings
are inhabited by overly
competive relics...

of the yuppie 1980s...
which is why reality shows
are so damn popular

gee! with any luck
Will's fingers stick to his prick
and he won't type more

Sorry lads can

Mates got youres disease
What on earth is yours, sounds bad
Mines a pint what

Monkeys were once free
But now they toil for Nippress
In his haiku mine

Purim holiday
Festive, prizes, noisemakers
Costumes and the treats

Know what Janis said
Please don

With encouragement
Could go on for lots of years
Best you ignore me

Gee thanks lots you guys
It

Over-worked monkeys
Rebel against their master
Well, it could happen

endless blathering
feels like choking on plastic
bomb Nippress instead

bush presents us with
brand new reality show
Petrol Survivor

"Becky,Getaways
Travel?...That'll be myself, two
sons, many camels..."

ash, stop being a critic

and let the poor man find out

for himself

happy purim...

don't panic

president george bush
it's the end of the known world
in a new abyss

you should get a job
ninety minutes of haiku
don't try a poet

hit the off button
but it just keeps on going
shut the fuck up, will