So, You Think You're a Poet

Al Gore:

One thin September soon
A floating continent disappears
In midnight sun

Vapors rise as
Fever settles on an acid sea

Snow glides from the mountain
Ice fathers floods for a season
A hard rain comes quickly

Then dirt is parched
Kindling is placed in the forest
For the lightning’s celebration

The shepherd cries
The hour of choosing has arrived
Here are your tools

I see that load of manure, and raise you one poem:


December in Copenhagen

A bloated blowhard appears

on the scene


The jet he takes

Feverishly using gallons of fuel


Snow falls all over the world

The Midwest, hit hard, like Cali

Winter arrives brutally


The data is skewed

Lies are told, facts manipulated

For the lining of his pockets


The people cry

The economy and business will die

With the hoax of a lifetime