Anatomy's a Killer Line

If you wanna really
make out and be a poet on the internet  
even though you don't write poetry  
that smokes a sonnet's worth of shit  
 
All you need to do is
change your profile pic  
Don't... tell the others
but it works every time  
 
Just masquerade  
as a hot skinny chick
admiring her assets graciously
shaking hair over a cruel tan  
chilling in a beefsteak bikini  
through the lips  
of a juicy-juice smile  
 
For the sake of  
maximum exposure
it's better letting something slip  
until you're wrapping yourself  
round a solitary palm tree  
stranded on a lonely heart beach
squirming those dainty-toes  
in hot white sand
 
Practice looking bored  
(that's the easy part)
Then gaze wistfully out to sea    
with a painted shining teardrop  
in the corner of your eye    
 
There'll be no more need
to fret about your writing style
Forget ratings
read counts or comments  
you'll have to work out    
how to handle all the email tribs    
when the horde of hungry woo-you's
play 24/7 tsunami with your inbox
 
Usually them dong-dawgs  
get so bat-eyed captivated    
you could copy out  
a plug wiring guide backwards
and still kick Shakespeare's ass
before dusk blinks night in Nairobi
    
And don't ever underestimate    
the awesome combination    
of photoshoots, Google and testosterone    
if you're serious about promoting  
the deadliest kind of poem
anyone could ever write