This is the latest in a glut of poems celebrating the demise of poemranker.... Some people "got" poemranker, Others thought it was serious, But they didn't understand that Nentwined, Was stoned and delirious. He could have been a contender, With the material of Zodiac and D-A, "beard my homemade negro jesus," But instead he turned gay. Favouring the ramblings, Of an addled old quim, with a sculpted beard, In need of a trim. Fuck it was good, I've wasted a year, Writing abuse, 'bout Dovina's rear, And the sporting of brogues, and pooing, The poor and those who go "jewing". My syntax still jumbled, My grammar fumbled, My rhymes tenous at best, My cadence badly guessed. So what have I learned? In five years of 'ranker, What my hair should be permed! And I'm still a wanker.