Newamba

I was born and raised on a chicken farm in the Florida Keys by a suicidal cult of transvestite prostitutes who dressed up in gorilla suits and played loud Polka music from distorted speakers at all hours of the night. After escaping the chicken farm, I was taken hostage by an Elvis impersonator that forced me at gunpoint to write poetry and sing Britney Spears songs in Chinese. He told me that if I didn't publish a myspace page, he'd force me to listen to Justin Timberlake CDs and dance the "Macarena" nonstop for hours. So here it is. And please don't call me Herbert because that is not my name and I don't eat pork anymore, either. CLICK HERE FOR A POETIC ENEMA! Toodles!