Dear Mr. Newport,
I'll admit it. I haven't been a huge fan of your poetry in the past, but after reading a few of the poems you sent to one of my readers, I'm gaining an appreciation for it.
I'm particularly impressed by "So," the poem in which you describe the joys of tongue spelunking. The imagery is almost transcendental in its nature. It seizes the reader's psyche, transporting him or her into a world of sublime shades of joyful pinks and browns. We share your longing for the sweet brown eye and rejoice in the ecstasy that consumes you upon finding it.
So,I have one question though. Why did you stop using the birthday stationary? I think it added a whimsical touch to your work.
you have run out of replies?
Maybe your friends can help you,
you may be beyond help,
you do not have one single Confederate quality nor qualification,
and never will,
you glob of Northern diarrhea,
run and hide,
run and hide and cry bitch,
I knew you can not back up your whiny shit,
nor will ever be able to,
you misspelled douche bag two separate times,
and jerk off once,
the only important thing you got to do is to suck dicks lick balls and stick your tongue up their ass
--George William (Bill) Newport
Gen. JC Christian, patriot