Eat The Page by John Patrick Robbins

And put it to good use instead of cluttering it with your words.
And let the work end up going down the shitter where it belongs.

As it keeps the alligators company and maybe gives them something to read.

As they scratch their heads and wonder.

Just who writes this shit trying to pass it off as poetry?
And in return start crafting words of their own.

To simply get rejected by everyone until finding publication at the Dope Fiend Daily.

As their ego swells never knowing.
It has ultra low standards and a semi insane editor.

But who am I to burst their bubble.
I mean it's not like I got nominated for a Pushcart by Scott or anything like that.

But I heard that crocodile is now the poet laureate of the sewers and king of the open mics down below.

I heard him read once and could not make out half the shit he was trying to say.
He really seemed a great fit for the lit scene.

As for me,  I got rejected by my own mag only yesterday.

Bravo to me.

John Patrick Robbins.

Is an editor and that is all people seemingly  give a flying fuck about.

Because he is the man that pushes the publish button which is like a G spot to writers.

He practices black magic in his free time and is best friends with the Devil.

He enjoys serial killing and sexually harassing his co editor.

He also enjoys Roman orgies and eating alone at the Olive Garden .

He has published every writer's number on the bathroom wall.

He currently resides in Tokyo where he is the writer in residence at the Godzilla Geisha house.

He has been published in your dreams and nightmares alike, Esquire, Field And Stream, Jugs, Family Circle and this shitty as ezine as well.

He is currently working on building his death ray to destroy this planet.

He enjoys binge drinking while operating heavy machinery.

And writing ultra professional bios.