Terrorist Spot Poem by chris bowen, a.k.a to wit

appearances are as they seem.looks like a dream.four men who work at an online poetry room.they moved too soon.they liked each other like that, with all the heart and jazz.they didnt mind being gay, they knew they were throw aways.their thoughts, keep in mind, as i lose my time posting.wasnt even ghosting, just studying ginsberg, who wrote'likes taking it in the bum'and you can read it here from what ive heard.i lured no one in, they found me automatically.drifted to the best.i already passed my theft test.poetry is motion, and anger and expression is included.if you do not allow bad words, your poetry room is deluted.i fueded? where do you go? they gotta know, im on christmas time for sure.i am a haiku man, i thought i understood the dern plan.others hold my hand.i like girls.the rest, tempt the world.that would be weird for a southern boy like me.usually, these four men who run this poetry room online, you can find them right behind each other, its like their second brothers.then discover they dont love each other.somebody named mark already under the covers.he tells the fbi that these four men try to harass any hetro on the net and they will come and do their check.the old lie detector.does it tell aids infection? i am guessing i can stand, ive got 25 haiku books at wordclay.com man.your readers already bought.this is where the war is fought.