In honor of this special holiday

Today is Bad Poetry Day; post your bad poetry! (Or link to Melfice's blogs if you don't have any)

Also, it's Denis Leary's birthday.

When I take a poop, I think
What if I did it in the sink
Whilst over someone else's place
What if I threw some in your face
What if I dressed it up in lace
And hung it right above my stoop
These are the thoughts I have with poop.

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits
On a lurgid bee.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
And hooptiously drangle me
with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon
See if I don't.

Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush?
Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush? I didn't think you had.
Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush?
Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush? I'm sure I saw you there.
Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush?
Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush?
AND STEALING ALL THE MULBERRRIES!

I think you have! I think you have!
You're a theiving little gypsy and I'm going to shoot your dad,
In the back of the face,
With a can of mace,
I've got an ace up my sleeve; give me the metal pole!

I've been down to the Mulberry Bush at least twenty-five million times last week you fool!
Think you're better than me?
I'll kill your family!
Hang them from a tree,
and whack off into bees! Ahhhhhh.......

Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush?
Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush? I didn't think you had.
Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush, the Mulberry Bush?
Have you been down to the Mulberry Bush?
I'LL STAB YOU WITH A SCREWDRIVER IN THE FACE!

--- show your support for The Angered Goose's Octogon of Fire! peace out.

<zarkyb> markov, what is it?
<Markov> Roses are red / Violets are blue / Niggers it is

yeah... i got nothing ;_;

Mary had a little lamb
Little lamb, little lamb
Mary had a little lamb
Until I ate it whole.

In honour of this special day
I thought I would compose a play
Construcuted of attrocious rhyme
And lacking rythm, structure, time.

Ralphis was a little lad
Who's pelvis was lacking in pubes.
He wished so much that he was hairy,
Waiting for the pubic fairy.

One night he placed upon his bed
A dollar coin beneath his head
In hopes that magic hairy fairy
Would visit his scrotum that night

He pretended to sleep, one eye on the clock
One eye on the window; one hand on his cock
And then his last dollar he glance-ed upon
And discovered said dollar was vanished and gone.

Thunder rolled; lightning cracked.
In ralphis' pants was the feeling of cack
He shit himself in the most foulest of spurts
For there at his door was a minion of hurt.

The Hairy Fairy; his name was Bubba.
Tattoed and moustached and clad all in rubber
Three hundred six pounds of concentrate gay.
Sixteen foot seven of bug-gar-ey.

He said unto ralphis, "I answer your plea,
"I am here as requested," he said with much glee.
"A boy lies before me. A puppy, a lamb,
"But after tonight you shall leave here a man!"

Poor Ralphis screamed at the sight of his dildo
Puckered his anus and chomped on his pillow
His shitchute was buggered and left hanging free
He went from a virgin to gaping goatse.

And now this sad story must come to a close
We leave poorest ralphis befrit of his clothes
Clutching his arsehole and wishing for lube
But there on his pelvis; Behold! It's a pube!

Fin.

I hade a poem all ready, but ... I messed it up (had to translate from Swedish). :-(

I'll make one up on the fly:

Tired
-----
Work work work
Work sleep work
Eat work stress
Wall Street stock
Work work work
Bungee jump with dental floss

Oh Bloody Sunday
Fucking Bob Dole did it again
He ate the damn pie

a Haiku is 5/7/5, so fail.

A Haiku is a fail, so success.

I gave a poem here. It rhymes at least.

One day dear St Doom
Wrote a haiku, therefore he
Fails. Lesson learned, bingo!

HA! thats 5/7/6! Can't touch this!

Oh my fucking god
This is not a crap haiko
It so isn't fail

Yea, My newbish ways suck
I'm a quasi-furry freak
But I am honest

St. Doom said:

Yea, My newbish ways suck
I'm a quasi-furry freak
But I am honest

6/7/5

I can't make a poem
five seven five seems to much
No idea why I try

My two-hundreth post,
Who really cares Inferno,
We're making poems.

Lol

A Retard who talks
About random shit on here
I must be stoped now

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'll fuck you with a rake






Yeah, I didn't write it. Oh well. I'll be more creative later.

Oh my sweet Jesus
Yet more shitty work from me
when will the pain end

夜の中
学生が起きて
皿の音

I wrote a haiku in Japanese. I win.
and...

Roses are red
violets are blue
In Soviet Russia
Poems write you

The Imp is on fire.
Why did he play with matches?
The world will never know.

A little lamb had Mary;
She tasted quite contrary.

Yes, Mary went to Hell
That bitch killed nine nice pokemon
She burns in the fires

This thread just fails it
St. Doom is getting boring
Shut the fuck up now

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm a schizophrenic
And so am I.

Blatantly ripped from "What About Bob?"

What is up with the haikus?
Why not poems about big shoes?
Or some ridiculously long snooze?
Or getting wasted-faced off booze?

This post, indeed, does not amuse.

Hello and welcome here
The key is it's all bad works
Of corse they are borring

Numbermind said:

Today is Bad Poetry Day; post your bad poetry! (Or link to Melfice's blogs if you don't have any)

OH

SNAP

Yo Jiddy Sont in the house y'all with some street peotry! Ya hur?

Yo yo,
I was raised in a place called Death's Waiting Room,
To tha suckas in da south; be Keswick.
We hold tha coldest muthafucka's here; they would make ya sick,
But the babes in hood would do tha trick, for a trick.
I ain't frontin', I don't take tha mick,
And I swear to God I got out of the nick, in the nick,
Of time.
Life revolve on tha flick of a dime,
Which I throw in the air while I'm warming my nine....iron.

Playin' Golf with the oldies,
'Don't rip the fuckin' turf or we'll call on the Baldies!'
Jeriatric street hoods totin' their zimmer's,
Wrinkled gnarly ninja's and athletic swimmers,
Cuttin' brothas up with their petrol hedge trimmers,
Yo, ain't no way to live here.

Yo, I ain't kidding Kwasia
Yo, yo.

The lights are dimming, can't afford to nest hur.
Survival chances slimming, Ah got no time to rest hur!
My options open, while granny is gropin'
I'm takin' to Black England, White Asia
Leicester.

Yea! White Asia Leicester. (Say what!)
I said White Asia Leicester. (Say werd?)
White Asia Leicester. (Huh Jiddy?)
White Asia Leicester.(Yea!)

Yo, Yo, Yo, Yo. Yo chally, I said Yo yo yo yo yo Peace out brothas.

90% of the words in this one were randomly picked from the dictionary and arranged by me during a drug fueled night long ago. how bad is this one.

the reporters foot prayer
the devil is the king of misery
how it remembered living
what say we watch, shout oh!
and manic shorts of a black viking
plays free in the garden
and homes of the power child
the real setback of a christian elite
and better americans
of used dimensions
sure to act on updated sources
a second human is born
and with it sexuality