Happy World Poetry Day

I'm the rappin' King Arthur
My mic is Excalibur
So bring out your plastic
'Cause my rhyming wrecks Gallagher

And that folks, is how you rhyme with Excalibur. No applause, just throw money.

Kraft is sending me on a secret mission to recover the ring Putin stole from him.  He's paying me in gift cards to some spa in Florida.  If I get the ring and live to tell the tale, that's a win isn't it?  

The Arrow and the Song
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW


I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

Ronda Rousey has
One of the world’s largest cocks
But that doesn’t matter
To our pal Anthonyrocks

He eagerly awaits
All the ESPN Body Issues
Just to end up
Covered in gooey tissues

Anthony! Oh Anthony!
This isn’t the norm
The internet has gigabiyte upon gigabyte
Of totally free porn

It’s all good though
The heart wants what it wants
But in the future I suggest
You pursue women with c u n t s.

Are you Therealuserthomas? 

I expect a DC Fan themed poem of equal quality from you by 7th period.

Here's to us who wish us well, and those who don't can go to hell

Air and Angels
BY JOHN DONNE


Twice or thrice had I lov'd thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame
Angels affect us oft, and worshipp'd be;
Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Some lovely glorious nothing I did see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
More subtle than the parent is
Love must not be, but take a body too;
And therefore what thou wert, and who,
I bid Love ask, and now
That it assume thy body, I allow,
And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.

Whilst thus to ballast love I thought,
And so more steadily to have gone,
With wares which would sink admiration,
I saw I had love's pinnace overfraught;
Ev'ry thy hair for love to work upon
Is much too much, some fitter must be sought;
For, nor in nothing, nor in things
Extreme, and scatt'ring bright, can love inhere;
Then, as an angel, face, and wings
Of air, not pure as it, yet pure, doth wear,
So thy love may be my love's sphere;
Just such disparity
As is 'twixt air and angels' purity,
'Twixt women's love, and men's, will ever be.