Bad Poetry Corner

It's time to turn the lights down, light up a cigarette, get out that turtleneck sweater, and spend a few minutes of angst. Some of these poems were previously published in a 'zine called The Loogie, so there.

To make things a bit simpler (and so you don't have to keep scrolling to find new poetry), I've added a table of contents.

Abstract Breakdown

I'm having an abstract breakdown.
My face could melt a clock like wax.
The toes that I own have gone away
Because they have a memo to fax.

My pencil is at home, watching
"Charles In Charge" with a jalepeno.
But the scariest thing that beholds me ---
My nipples resemble two bottles of Drain-O.

Tofu Nazis have taken my arms away
To a large Constantinople camp.
But why do my eyes keep getting wet?
Oh! My eyebrows are damp.

I'm in pain, I'm in ecstacy,
I'm in Utero, I'm in a telephone,
I must sit down and rest...
Oh damn! My bottom's gone!

Harumph!

Unmotivated cherries are flying...
...Mary, the robotic virgin, is dying...
...my shins have angst, they are sighing...
...but inside, my pancreas is crying.

Grunt! Snort! Oooh...ahhhh!

"Grunt! Snort! Oooh...ahhhh!"
That's how we sound when we peak.
How does spending a night together sound?
"Squeak-squeak. Squeak-squeak."

An Emotional...

I feel like a frog in a creek
As I hippity-hoppity-frugaloo-along
It's not because I'm green or have warts
But just that my body odor is strong.

It is impossible for you to feel the
Sorrowful croaking in my throat.
Although I'm green, I'm truly blue
Because I was just now run over by a boat.

So I'll lay down my pencil for now
And shake loose the thoughts from my head,
For I'd like to tell you the whole truth:
It's hard to rhyme when you're dead.

Maverick Piker

What are you looking at?
A fish.

Time

I've time, I've things to do
Spelunking, exploring, bobbity boo
Angst angst angst! My bottom's on fire
You know that I would be a sire

Writing A Love Letter To Emperor Norton

I can't put it into words
So I mime my admiration.
My heart convents the trupitude
The bud of kinship.

Snot grabbers kill them.
Ankles belie their beauty.
Come squawk with me tonight.
Huzzah!

Where Did My Gift Go?

We ask the wrong questions.
We've read the wrong books.
Don't apply pressure unless necessary
To spank the budgie.

Beat Me Poetry

The jazz of my soul vibrates the leather in my pocket
When does the dog howl for it's midnight bite?
A-B-C-D-E-F-Gee, I'm alone in the void of the universe's heartbeat
That sounds against the burning steam in my face.
It's the howl of the moon, the bark of a tree
The incense of the moment. Pay me in butter.
I dream alone with nobody else
Myself and I against the odds and ends of the world's mad play
I've come to dance but it's open mike night
Damn, this remote control

Rabbits

Rabbits and dogs
Bumps on logs
Through the goo
I saw you
Tremendous skunk
Bunk in the funk
Up in the sky
The rainbow says "hi"

Crackers are crisp
Speak with a lisp
Fresh as strawberrys
Swooptiously pobblerries
Down a hole
Met up with a troll
Diver the fund
The man rotund
CROWMAGNUM

Save The Earth Today!

I hate those who say
"Save the Earth today!!!"
Only one day out of the year...

"I recycle. Yo! I'm cool!
I'm just an enviromental fool.
Dude! Get me another beer."

"Crush a beer can with my head
And toss it on the pile of the dead.
Whoops! My toga slipped."

"I'm just Pompeii-ing with my friends."
But the Earth dies, the party ends.
I just hope you go first.

How To Survive Life (or a horror film)

Don't have sex in a place where you can be caught!

When you think you're safe, you're not.

Never panic open-mouthed. Foreign objects can enter.

Don't go outside into the darkness. That's how they get you.

Don't play God! He cheats.

Quickie

I sit down for a second
before filling the catbox
and spurt a few goo splots
of words and thoughts in the
hope that something neat would
spooge forth.
Never mind.

I Can't Believe It's Not Buddha!
He preambled down the merryway
Eyes upon the the large gold thingy.
When he reached the Ned of the trip,
He worguzzled about his possibilities.
By the pricking of my thumbs
It's so freezing I am numb
Got no papery monery for my bills
Given up Kafka and other said frills
Eating peanut butter sushi for my lunch
Cold wet fish & nutty crunch
Because of these thoughts within mine head
It's seems nobler to just go off to bed.

Trip Sonic Melodic

As I stare from the comfort of my chrome-plated boat,
I sniff my beer and munch a cup of tea.
But I'm too tired...
...too tired...
....and bring out puppets of my affections.

Ever been felt up by a puppet?
Quite odd, the foam and the felt and the rod--the sensations.
And trying to explain the musky scent is a bitch too.
The first word of the next stanza is 'Styrofoam'.

'Styrofoam' is the first word of this stanza.
It doesn't rhyme but can I try to violate your space?
C'mon, just a touch or a sniff.
Wooga wooga!
That wasn't so bad, was it?

Relationships

Adam and Eve were there at the beginning
Trying to find their belly buttons.
Hannah and Ada had perfect symmetry.
Miles and Selim were always opposed.
Hamlet poked Polonius.

Life Is The Eternal Parade

Life is the eternal parade
Of fools and fops
In front of our sedated windows.
Struggle against the waves,
Do it, little fish.
Be braver than the norm
And worry naught of the frying pans.

The Dog

Dog is eating tuna
With alacrity.
A mismanaged
Federated
Understated
Police state exists upon
The facade.

Of Parents And Perverts
(a soliloquey of sorts)
Gracious lovers, those who have brought me here:
I question your motives,
Desires and inspirations?
Far be it from me to suckle from the teat of life
And spit it proteins in their eyes..
I'm not being ungracious.
I'm merely asking.
What possessed father to insert Tab A
Into mother's Slot B
And enter into the crazy lottery of procreation?
Producing me as an act of chance.
Hardly a thought I care to ponder.
Because
What if something really good was on television that night?
What if there was a minute, a second, a nanosecond of hesitation,
Fear of adding another mouth to the collective?
Or perhaps two lovers were merely caught up in the moment,
A true moment of passion,
An unexpected turn of events,
A quickie.
Or I a well planned excursion?
Did flow charts and graphs and maps and quantitative analysis
Produce the genius of me?
oh, i shall go mad!

RAW Thinking
(dedicated to Robert Anton Wilson's book, Prometheus Rising)
I am the very little man,
My brain is wise with know.
And everything my Thinker thinks,
My prover proves it so.

In Frabjous Praise of Glonds

Don’t forget the book
Don’t deny the wand
Don’t rely on pasteboard
Please, for your life, rely on glond

For glonds are fit and virile
And almost never rude
Yes, glonds will do your dishes
And help to lighten your mood
So let’s hear it for…
Glonds glonds glonds in the morning
Glonds glonds glonds after lunch
Glonds glonds glonds with your coffee
Glonds glonds glond in a bunch

Keep your glond in a jar by the window
Keep your glond in a medium-strength cart
Keep a glond with your lovemate
Or simply just keep it in your heart

A glond keeps you well with your family
And helps keep your knees minty fresh
Keep a couple glonds with your girlfriend
So you can watch them dance on her breast

Ohhh…
Glonds glonds glonds in your panties
Glonds glonds glonds in your bed
Glonds glonds glonds on your auto
Glonds glonds glond on your head

Don’t let the heathens try to tell you
That glonds and salvation do not make
Because they’re just supremely jealous
That their religion is supremely fake

So let’s have a cheer for our glonds
Hold your glond up high and proud
And let’s the non-glond holders
By praising our glonds so very loud

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
Glonds glonds glonds glonds glonds glonds glonds
Glonds glonds glonds glonds glonds glonds
Glonds glonds glonds glonds glonds glonds glonds
Glonds Glonds Glonds Glonds Glonds Glonds Glonds!

Grelbo Finnigan Stakes His Claim

There is a space
That's a pace
Ahead of our own
Under pretenses full-blown
But not entirely extinct
I thinkly succinct
But never do mind
Whatever you find
From these words that I speak
The words of a geek
(No, the words of a goon
Which is more of a boon
Besides, one point stickens:
I don't bite heads off chickens.)

Uncle Cyrus

Uncle Cyrus had a virus
That he shared with everyone.
The smell of his breath was worse than death
The creep was just no fun.
Those he met unwell they'd get
And feared they'd soon expire
So folks in town beat him up, tied him down
And chucked him into a fire
They thought they'd won; the job was done
On towards health they rode
But Uncle Cyrus, that dick, had one last trick
Which was to make his pyre explode.

>>BOOM<<

Chaos and debris for all to see
And death to all women and men
I know it sound gory but that's the end of our story
Of Cyrus and the villagers. Amen.

...more to come, surely.