The Murderous poet

Not by knife, nor sword or razor

Not by gun or bomb

Not by a blow from a hammer or a fist

Not staked out to die in the sun

I am the murderous poet

My weapon is pen and ink

I murder the English language

My poetry really stinks

A poetry assassin

My target my poetry

Nobody would pay for them

So I kill them all for free

I am the murderous poet

My writing is a crime

When I try to write a rhyme

Another poem dies

I am the murderous poet

I should be doing time