Wikipedia Doesn’t Know Me
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Mad Eye Moody, can it really be,
That splendid interpretation, a hero so free?
Who gave up his all for the cry of the truth?
So we could know that good is forsooth.
Yes, they can all Twitter, be it here, be it there,
About American Idol and Celebrities fair,
But can they replace the genius, so fine,
Like Rowling and Dahl – or Wilson’s strange mind?
When next you are shopping in Wal-Mart, I think,
If its bargains you’re after then remember the ink,
On the paper, in the book section, where I’m waiting for sure,
To temp you with my writing so as to open that door.
And when it is open my world of strange stuff,
Will entrance and beguile you; the air will be hushed,
As you read about Alice, the Cat and the Mouse,
Harry Rotter and Jimmy – and Beetle About.
Forget about Powerball, cars and the news,
Never mind Danny Choo – who is he? I muse
Wikipedia doesn’t know me but, heck, do I care?
When I’ve got so many readers in the real world out there.
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The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 