Tag Archives: my poetry sucks

no joke

I sat down in front of my computer and thought that I could pound out a poem that would suck me, you, and the rest of this room into it like a tornado, but instead I projectile vomited clichéd meta-whores in a start-stop jerking train of thought that went about three intellectual inches before falling into a pit of white blank page muck. I thought I must have upset the poetry gods. Perhaps I just got lucky on those other pieces, or maybe my words have just become flaccid after too much excitement ejaculating on crowds around the country. Wow, that came out wrong. That too. Stop thinking dirty thoughts. Am I talking to you or myself? Did I really just have an internal conversation in this poem? Jeez, this poem sucks. All my poetry sucks!

My poetry sucks so bad it’s like mental masturbation cut short.
My poetry sucks so bad I got kicked out of a free workshop.
My poetry sucks so bad the state board of corrections uses it to punish convicts for bad behavior.
My poetry is so bad my own mother no longer accepts it as a present. . . or me as her son.
My poetry is so craptastic nightclubs play my CD at 3am to get people to leave.
My poetry is so bad I get negative scores at slams and end up owing the judges points.
My poetry is so horrible my girlfriend threatened to dump me if I mentioned her in this piece (love ya babe!)
My poetry is so bad a district court judge told me in all seriousness that she had to research the constitutionality of performing it in public.
My poetry is so bad Michael Jackson’s ghost just appeared in the back of the room to make sure you all know I’m using the literal definition of bad, and that my poetry is in no way bad like he is/was.
My poetry is so bad pet stores won’t even buy my chapbooks for their animals to piss on.
My poetry is so bad a group of students from Galluadet told me to shut up.
My poetry is so awful the riot police asked me to help them disburse protestors at the World Bank/IMF meetings.
My poetry is so heinous 7 counties in the tri-state area have banned me from performing in their jurisdictions because it disturbs their peace.
My poetry is so bad my best friend walked out of my last show. . . and my life.
My poetry is so bad two doctors confirmed that it literally caused a woman to become ill after hearing just half of one piece.
My poetry is so bad I made an infant child, who doesn’t speak or understand any language, wake from her sleep, start crying, vomit, and then give me the finger.
No joke.
My poetry is so bad it hurts, literally.
But it’s still better than yours! (not really, i love you baby, calm down it was just for fun)