Poetry that makes you sick.

It's never the poetry that sucks, if it sucks it's not poetry, and therefore the blame should be placed on the poet.  Though sometimes the poetry in the act of sucking is actually on par with the ability of the reader/critic/other agenda.  

It sparkles in the light, the water of your self, so golden, so gold, now stroke!

Sidenote.  I think I am against, hold on I have to look the word up, Solipsism.   Actually I'm not.

I just like poetry.   I've no real dislikes.  Whether it be Irish, American, Swedish, Australian, Martian.  I love it all. 

P.S.  I sneezed all over my computer screen.  There are no coincidences.

Love your Elephant mixed with a strawberry spitting balloons and handkerchiefs while riding a bike with no hands because a lion ate them then took a shit in a graveyard while no one was watching because they were busy shooting their guns at lice,

 Ryan Barrientos Wilbur