write a really bad poem

The townfolk cried out...
"Ah, Ogre, Ogre"
Pitchforks, knives and loolipop ladies
Even babies
Chased me,
darn it
I should have worn my Prince Charming outfit!
(fart)
Woa! Those onions
:banana:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by snape

(fart)

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Ah! I can smell it. :)

Here's something from my imaginary friend to keep the thread going:

I Hate My Boyfriend

My man's afraid to talk to me.
That tends to get me pissed. :flare:
I lose my cool.
I start to drool
And freak. I'm rarely missed. :nopity:

-- xoxo :reddevil: Bipoluh Baby (BB)

I mentioned to BB that some people here were concerned about internet trolls, and she said, "I know! They're awful!"

Internet Trolls

My heart has got a single goal
To get my hands upon that troll
Whose brain-dead drivel torments me :mad2:
Almost as much as poetry.

-- xoxo :reddevil: Bipoluh Baby (BB)

I walk and sulk and girls and hope and die, love, be good soon hope fry brain, see ya soon, why, what's the deal, dunno gotta go

Nice one, jajdude. I showed it to BB. She's very competitive, always saying, "I can write something worse than that!" Unfortunately, she's still fixated on internet trolls.

I Hate Bots
or
There's a Screw Loose in Your Silicon Chip

I hate those mouthy robots. :mad5:
They like to play with you,
Screw with your mind
Until you find
You're messed up like them, too.

-- xoxo :reddevil: Bipoluh Baby (BB)

What is this Bipoluh nonsense ? Be yourself.

I am.

No one understands me
Geniuses are rarely understood
Why isn't life good
Maybe they will sing for me tomorrow

The weeping willow wearily waits
Like a ponderous pedestrian at a red light
For the rain to rudely roughen its branches
Wail, oh frail weeping willow for
rain remains remote in the Sahara desert loneliness…

(This is great fun, I could get used to writing really bad bad peotry!)

In open court the Elephant
Upon the stand began to telephant
The Judge allowed the rambling rant
Because the defendant was a gambling Monkey rat
The Prosecution was an old Hyena
Ridiculously called Shanna Sheba
Who wove each knot with spiteful rancor
Designed to hang the Monkey wanker
The Defense rose with creaking knees
And grinned; He was a blinking Chimpanzee
And pointed out with delighted eyes
That Monkey was a poor identify
For Monkeys come in many species
And his client was a Rhesus
While from the description given
Any fool should recognize a Gibbon
The jury composed of Army Ants
Returned "Not Guilty" so the Elephant
Conceded the trial with a shrug
And turned and quietly shot the Judge

:sad:I've just posted one in the quoted line comp.

That one in the quoted line contest about Jacob and Esau was pretty good, prendrelemick.

Here's one I hope is really bad:

I got an image of a train.
I got an image of a tree.
There's people now inside my brain
And flowers blooming needlessly.
I better sort of make this rhyme.
It's mushy. Yes, I know.
My meter won't tell me the time.
Oh, well, who cares? Let's go.

This was supposed to be a parody of Pound's In a Station of the Metro, but I figured Pound's poem wasn't well enough known to add it to the parody thread. The idea came from WolfLarsen's reworking Shakespeare's sonnets.

They stuck many needles,
they said needles are great,
but needles am I to say,
it was a severe pain.

I am almost to the end of Gerald Stern's In Beauty Bright when these thoughts kept distracting me.

We paid our kindest respects to Warhol at
the MET complimenting his memory with 'I
could do that myself' or 'I wouldn't want
that in my living room' or 'If I found
that in my basement guess how long it would
take me to get it on craigslist?' but we
thankfully rushed through it if rushing could
be a way to describe Gerald's pace since
he needed to pee so often even the lady
selling stuff wanted to know if his most
pressing need was the location of the nearest
restroom or could he get to the Warhol exhibit
on the other side of the building--we were
that lost--in time, but he knew he better make
it to the exhibit though I soon left him to get
hammered while I leisurely walked through
Central Park toward the hotel since my
flight would leave in a few hours and I felt
better about the trees and bushes than I
did about Warhol where there was no admission
charge until I ran into a young man on the
edge of a park bench who made me feel even
happier since he asked me sheepishly if I
could direct him to the Metropolitan Museum
of Art and being from Chicago and never
having even been in this park before in my
life I was thrilled to show this dumb tourist
how to get two blocks or so to the MET that
he seemed overjoyed to learn and that
made me happy for about an hour until I
realized that anyone with a map of NYC who
could find Central Park should have no problem
finding the MET on his own and what he was
really giving me was a signal wondering if
I was the guy he met on craigslist or not
and clearly I wasn't since I foolishly showed
him where the MET was and I could hear him
telling his blind date later when he finally
met him that some moron, probably from
Chicago, actually gave him directions to the
MET and even told him that the Guggenheim was
closed on Thursday--hahahaha--which is about
all I know about NYC, and yes, I told him all
I knew about NYC, holding nothing back, and
now all I wanted to do was get back to civilization
where, should I meet someone who dared to ask
me in Grant Park on a bench by the lake where
Michigan Avenue was, I would tell him without
any sense of being fooled since it didn't
matter all that much to know that there was
no point in him going any further east.

unta bunta tunta tu
went together to the zoo

unta saw a whale walking
bunta fed a monkey talking
tunta tingled tun tun tu
tu was left alone in the loo!!