I don't want to think that I'll be a Hemingway,
And Wilde was too sharp;
Parker loved a new man twice a day,
Poe's work was far too dark.

Homer never trimmed his hair,
Bukowski was drunk as a skunk;
Dickinson fancied her self as fair,
And Woolf's career just sunk.

I dream of being Vonnegut
Though Cummings mastered nonsense
Though when Dickens lines up to putt,
He and Plath couldn't stop at one sentence.

Fitzgerald knows the psyche twist
Though Freud will never slip;
Cobain spent every moment ******
while Courtney Love was on a trip.

When I think of my successors
(In Hell it must be tight)
I know to challenge my oppressors
I'll likely have to write.