What Inspires A Poem For Me Is

I Grabbed My Book And Opened It Up. I Wanted To Smell It. Heck, I Wanted To Kiss It. Yes, Kiss It. That's Right, I Am A Book Kisser. Maybe That's Kind Of Perverted Or Maybe It's Just Romantic And Highly Intelligent.

He Made Me Realize That Hard Work--that The Act Of Finishing, Of Completing, Of Accomplishing A Task--is Joyous

...and Nostalgia Is A Cancer. Nostalgia Will Fill Your Heart Up With Tumors. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, That's What You Are. You're Just An Old Fart Dying Of Terminal Nostalgia.

My Books For Adults Had Been Previously Challenged And Banned So I'd Had Experience With It. I Always Find It Sad And Amusing: Sad To Think That Such Archaic And Potentially Dangerous Censorious Beliefs Still Exist, And Amused Because These Censors Only Make A Book More Powerful And Seductive When Trying To Ban It.

The People Who Loved Me When I Was Seven Years Old Love My Books, And The People Who Didn't Like Me When I Was Seven Years Old Don't Like My Books.