The Writers Marquee

The gloves are off! 

It’s heating up

And when you think

They’ve said enough

They bounce right back 

To add a punch

A right, a left

This scribbling bunch

Some shout, some SCREAM!

Yet others wait

Through subtle pokes 

Their points, they bait

Until they land 

That final blow

When socks blow off

And minds explode

Come one, come all!

Beyond marquee

Where writers fight

And chicks drink free


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