No Love Lost
Tagged in: Bragging Poems
I invite you to play me in this sport
and fall victim to a tort:
I’ll teleport across the court
for a smash of the hardest sort.
as time and space distort,
you’ll twist and you’ll contort,
to reply to my retort–but you’ll only hear the mort.
open the gate and come on in,
even without the games i’ll win,
you’ll be completely amazed i bet, when you gaze upon my set,
you’ll never get it past the net
like when the Xiongnu and the wall of China met.
watch the balls go whizzing by you,
like knowledge in the bayou.
one racket’s not enough–
if i were you, i’d consider using two.
you have the intimidation and the top-spin
of a limbless mary poppins.
I think you should put a call in
to see if Spaulding carries coffins.
Your future will be looking darker and darker
as i whip it inside the lines like a four year old prodigy with a box of markers.
your skills are as plentiful as purple shark fur
and we’d all be dead if you were an archer.
I make this pledge as I serve this ace
that before you leave this place
you will learn the acrid bitter tastes
of my tennis elbow in your face
and your very own disgrace.
Aww, are you crying little tennis racketeer?
then i will kindly end it here