badpoems
2000-06-28 - 15:35:02
I went on a mission today. I'm trying to write bad poems. This is actually harder then you would think, and if you don't think so, I encourage you to try it. But anyway, here are some of my attempts at the morbid and the stoopid.
1)little bug flying in my room
the little bug
in my room
flying
i watch you
like a muskrat
watches musk
like a cat
watches it's own tail
like a worm
watches the dirt
you settle on the wall
my hand comes down
you try to escape
you fail
and i squash you
like pumpkin pie
i retrieve my hand
and lick you off
swallow
swallow
gulp
you are inside me
we are one
me and
the little bug
2) Dunebuggy
Little purple dune
Why do you temp me so?
You beg to be driven over
To be ridden
To be lined with tiremarks
You beg for me
To give you shape
To mold you
With my tread
I slide the key slowly
Into the ignition
The engine is revved
The antenna is straight
The radio is blasting
I approach
You tremble
I tear into your grass
I rip out your flowers
I spew rocks
From your surface
I destroy you
In all my power
You are no longer
Beautiful
Or even purple
You are trash
You are shit
I move on
To the next dune
3) What the...?
What is this
That eludes thine definition?
Is thee a sock?
Is thee a sound,
A frying pan,
A 3.5 floppy disk?
No.
Thee is not.
You are in a yellow box.
Are you mail then?
No.
Then what must thee be?
The is surely not a dead mouse,
So furry and yet stiff,
Devoid of life,
And cheese.
No, thee is surely not.
Is the a small hand puppet,
A stick of celery,
A handful of stones?
No.
I question further.
You are a small piece in a box
With many others like you
Is thee another box,
Placed in the box,
To suspend and deepen
My thoughts?
No.
Is thee a wad of spit,
A drop of blood?
Perhaps a match
With which to lite,
And lite,
And lite,
Until everything is black.
Thee resembles a small child,
covered in cocaine.
The son of a drug addict,
Walking though
The airport.
Your eyes bulge
Like your sweet tummy.
You're hair lies in curls.
Are you a freak of some sort?
No.
You are only a
Flattened
Sour
Patch
Kid.
4) Velcro Pants
Strange Velcro pants
Wrapped about my legs
Soft to the touch
On the crotch there is Velcro
Ripity, Rip-Rip, Ripity-Rip
I seal it back up
Only to open them again
Ripity, Rip-Rip, Ripity-Rip
It must be hard to have sex
In strange Velcro pants
