Tiger

Fetid noxious swamp aghast
The sight of the Id before the Ego
Archetypes anxious for Anything at last
They hid backstage among sentence fragments, snorting blow

Romeo oh Romeo wherefore art thou
For I see not but a foul gas
Breaking out beyond and past the brow
Cross putrid swamp's mossy hairlike grass

Prowling tiger kisses sweet limericks
And men from Nantucket pick fights
While a dog is strong up in a Shangri-lift

Sweet female bodies sell marvelous mavericks
To masses of consumerist knights
Who don't shoot penises at virtual paintings

Part 2

老虎， 我爱你
康熙帝说了，可是我不知道
Tiger also loves me
But Kangxi died a long time ago now.

Is Chinese poetical, and English dry?
Do you beg to differ, me and I?
Romance languages are passionate! Right?
Germanic-coolness, eh mite?

McLuhan said things
The medium speaks about itself
Twitter communicates what.

140 characters or less.
Radiance. Brilliance.
Eat gall bladder of the Tiger for more power.