Poor Old John Patrick Robbins.
I’m not sure what he’s done.
When I dropped in at Hello today,
I was very badly stunned.

For I looked high and low,
for the wordsmith’s rambling rants.
A punctuation free zone.
References to spandex pants.

Free the Hello One!
Oh Eliot, hear my cries.
Without that crazy *******,
we will lack so many highs.

Tales of madness and mayhem;
poems on self-destruct.
A comedian in a little black hat;
a master of disorderly conduct.

I know he’s learnt his lesson.
I am sure he’d play the game.
A model pupil in class,
poetry being his aim.

On my knees I beg,
to the higher laws above.
Hang on in there Gonzo!
This is one poet,
We surely cannot give up.