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“Yo yo yo, welcome back to the Def Poetry Slam. Comin’ up on da stage next we got two favorites who certainly ain’t a favorite of each other… na mean, na mean? They’re both hear reppin’ the London, so give a big round for ‘Lord Bye-Bye, and Johnny Cleats’…
Yeah, yeah. You guys know the rules… get to it. Bye-Bye, you’re startin’”
He walks in Beauty, like the dawn
whose bright and crimson sun alights
So all of those around him fawn
and follow him into the night
Now I know why my friend Trelawn
does envy him with all his might
Oh no, I, am so sorry,
My mind has come to function
all of this, you see, is me
And while he’s got some gumption
aesthetic he, but hungry, Keats
only talent for consumption
“Ohhhhh! No he didn’t, no he di-in’t! Yo Cleats, get some traction on this and tear him away.”
Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
staring down from atop an ivory stool
Your title, then, will keep them in your dance
and little else, you shallow-swimming fool
You see, My Lord, and that is all you pageant
as simple work as that does a flask
My words, instead, are all that I imagine
Of that, My Lord, mine is the hardest task
“Ohhh… well Round One’s gotta go to Bye-Bye, the audience has chosen, but… John? Johnny Boy? Hello? Where lies you, English Poet?… Can it be?… Can it be?… Ladies and Gentlemen… I think we have our first official **** in the ring. Must’ve been something we said. I guess it’s over. Bye-Bye… you got anything to say on your victory?”
So, we’ll go no more a roving
as our battle was cut short
Just as I thought you would be atoning
for your lack of literary tort
I’m classically trained, John Dear
and a weakness of the meek:
It’s that you have a deathly fear
and cannot survive critique
“That’s kinda cold, dude. You and I both kno–”
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