“In the twisted times of a rotten game,
Where flood waters raised coffins from pain.
Where the worms of freedom have all gone insane,
I plucked them or sucked them from the heart of my brain.”
So begins the poem The Big White Phone from the man everybody seems to be talking about at the moment, the actor Charlie Sheen.
I can’t bring myself to print the rest.
Apparently Sheen wrote the poem years ago and it only sold six copies. He now hopes his poetry will be taken more seriously because his effort at poetry was written “before people realized how bitchin’ I am.”
Although Sheen’s wild antics may have shocked 21st century society in a way that Lord Byron’s shocked 19th Century England, the similarity ends there.
Sheen sure can’t write poetry like Byron. He should probably stick to taking whatever he’s taking.
I think he's a loon. HA HA! :D
ReplyDeleteHe is a self medicating "goofla" (technical term for nut job) and a known drug addict. I am thinking many addicts are loons. So I second Daisy's comment. :)
ReplyDeleteyep guys he's a loon - but he's WINNING....
ReplyDelete