Poetry by Jambo Stewart

 

There was once an evil car
But the thing that really raised the bar
Was a telekinetic child
Shy with manners mild
Who flipped out at the prom
Hardly a stellar rom-com
It set the pace for future fiction
Then horror became his addiction.
The modern master of macabre
Wrote of a haunted candelabra
Gold-crested stering silver
At a mansion in Manilva.
He wrote of a cursed cup
His fans thought he’d given up
Creative juices ran dry
As millions of words passed him by
In this current decade
With scores of novels on parade
He tried something new
After drinking a few
Thought it might be fun
To write a novel with his son
I wonder if people get the gist
Or write him off as a misogynist
For daring to pen a new idea
That the feminists fear
Conceiving of a future Earth
Where women are dead before birth