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Roast of Justin Bordner

He's packin' Magic Viagra
Muse infused grooves that set the mood
grab ya' and stab ya' 
we're opposites 
still we speak the same language 
teach and preach truth
every time I stop to see what he's droppin' 
my dang pen commits sin, flips a lid  
ink pours, runs down the paper like Jill Abramson did the NY TIMES
his timeless verse transfers kinetic energy activating a semantic force field
formulating symbiosis through synergy   
swimming in puddles of puns
changing sans rays into rays of sun 
you can hear bums humming metonym hymns from the Twin Cities to Tuscan
igniting a revolution of prostitutes and hooligans on hallucinogens to scoot  
loose from futons 
learn to earn and swim with loose Louis Vuitton boots on 
whacked out kids from Pakistan with crack in hand hear his pen 
and pack into Shaggin' Wagon vans to kick up sand and
do their dance and just hold hands 

the whole globe huggin' like cousins 
uncovering hovering heteronomy mysteries evading lexicographers throughout 
centuries of history
he's teaching wide eyed chicks to utilize polysemy by demonstrating thermal 
viscosity rates of his balls and prick
my mental lexicon is spinning 
so I'm sinnin' then  I'm grinnin' and grabbing inflatable girlfriends over for 
dinner then dessert to be followed immediately by frenzied poetic circle jerks

I must admit the fabric of his hyperbole allegoristic-ally makes me 
wanna  on·o·mat·o·poe·ia in my pants and break into a hyper pole dance!
he's coordinating conjunctions
box munching at the junction
whole heartedly gets retarded with descriptive hard-ons 
vast array of play-on words for you ladies to chew on
verse for verse
inch for inch
tit for tat 
this and that 
hot and heavy with romance 
enough to make a man wear a hard hat 
there inside the high rise 
under construction in the pants
damn Mister Bordner, atta-boy!
and though I'mma boy with no vagina, boy 
(you don't mind if I call you mister by design there boy?)

Man, the images your tongue twisters send 
I must commend and admit 
if you had a different rear end...
then WO'-man
I might have to apprehend your ass with my ten inch night stick, oh hell, it's 
just past a hard seven, but who's countin' man? 

As you see poetry is a curse conjuring harmful words of demonic proportions 
reading your scriptures' depictions interrogatively tells me these inscriptions 
are precisely the prescription I need to erect the sword which could ultimately 
lead to seismic abortions...dang...
Did I just type that?



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  1. Date: 7/24/2014 10:47:00 PM

    Justin's work is amazing! Sensual but not obscene....Sexy, but not vulgar. Potent...Definitely. Sizzling...assuredly...Moving....undoubtedly. If this is an ODE as you claim it to be, then you couldn't have chosen a better more passionate person to write about. He is one talented writer...
  1. Date: 7/24/2014 8:10:00 PM

    good heavens, methinks I see a man crush here, not a roast!! hahaha. I don't know why you say you are opposites. yOu guys seem a lot the same to me. Anyway, this is pretty cool. I especially liked that stanza with on·o·mat·o·poe·ia in my pants and break into a hyper pole dance! Sometimes you sure come up with some fun stuff!! I enjoyed your pun on my "uplifting" jar of face cream. It's simply "Divine."
  1. Date: 7/24/2014 12:47:00 PM

    I'm a real Heart Fucker, a Soul Plucker, and a nightmare Nut Cracker. J.A.B.
  1. Date: 7/23/2014 10:32:00 PM

    Fantastic ode to a awesome poet on here! Thanks for sharing. It was really entertaining to read! : ) I read your comments on his poem Mistress Fire and It made me laugh so hard. He really deserved this dedication. Awesome work once again. : ) "wanna on·o·mat·o·poe·ia in my pants and break into a hyper pole dance!" too hilarious!! Always, Laura