Surprise, surprise, surprise!

Quarterly I pay,
too have my poetic say.
Then I pay again,
for the words I write in the den.
I basically be versing,
trying not to be cursing.
I maintain my cool,
but
my monster wants to drool.

2007 AD might be a little meaner,
everything short of misdemeanor.
I won't keep anyone guessing,
I believe in expressing.
I might have to walk the plank,
my denship might get a yank.

I don't give a chit anymore,
I'm going through hell and heavens door.
I'm a poet with nerve,
I might pitch any f 'ing curve.
I can stand the heat in the kitchen,
so these f 'ing words I'll be pitching.

I'm into religion,
but I hate the flying rat pigeon.
Evil humans give me a hard on,
them I might just chit upon.
I'm into forgiving and love,
but
I might just up the azz shove.

Then hope it hurt,
especially to the evil ones who flirt.
To my loving friends,
it all really depends.
I mean no one no harm,
but
I might just burn the farm.

Right now I'm thinking,
about all this f 'ing inking.
Things around here could
get stinking.
Some eyes might get to blinking.
I might have to say goodbye,
after looking the devil in the eye.

OnePoet,
now you know it,
this is the way I flow it.
Take it or leave it,
Nothing last forever,
even a jackazz clever.

All you nigger haters,
and evil dictators,

can kiss my black azz.

JUst kiss,

kiss it.

I know you're out there,

some f ' ing where