Imp Off an imp off is a sort of poetry contest known only to myself and a friend. Well, now you know. I encourage you to try it. It is called spontaneously, with no prior preparation, upon which each participating poet is given two minutes to compose a poem about 'imp'. Here was the product of my first imp off:

Imp Off Imp off!
the imp coughs
hope it fuckin’ dies
though it is very wise
and enjoys to eat rhubarb pies
when cabbage falls from the skies
it brings about the imp’s demise
for the imp is dry
and hot
not
crunchy
he is not a vegetable
he is a stale piece of shit
and it’s high time
some fecopheliac
picked that biatch up off the street
and ate him.
Fuckin’ imp.
always a walkin’with that limp,
it walks that way
cuz it’s dick is limp
so fucking impotent
like a leprechaun
ya know, mon?
the imp listens to
Irish reggae
does the socialist jig
in his trippy dreadlocks
but unless he sucks my cock
I will not let him cross my bridge,
for I am the Billy Goat’s Gruff,
I like my sex ruff
I’ll handcuff
that imp
break out the whips
take some dips
my tongue in his ass
tie him up fast
with kinky chains
and make him know pain!
I will sodomize him with a supermarket’s whole inventory of vegetables
carrots, eggplants
I will remove his pants
I will bite his sack open
and fill it with potatoes
that dirty ho.