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The Pompous, Wordy, Egg-Headed Corner Of A Bunch of Social Misfits, Who Are Supposedly "In Touch", But Can't Come Up With Two Words Which Sound The Same, And Think Calling Blue "Azure" Is Imagery

An Unbiased Look At Some of Today's Finest Poetry

Poetry, unlike the future, could never be what you feel you have the power to sneeze on. Allowing it to be understood could undermine every concept known to mankind, therefore reversing the parallel atmosphere, oh what is, should be, should not be, or cannot be comprehended to be by cubes. Therefore, the square root of society is one man and his duck.

The Jello on My Fork by Corn Syrup

It sits there,
the jello on my fork.
My fork holds the jello like a new born
the jello on my fork

The jello explores the fork's many curves,
the jello is content.
But it deserves better.
The jello on my fork.

Sliding through the teeth,
the jello escapes the metal
and lands in the bowl it first came from.
The jello in the bowl.

The fork is lonely,
and seeks another companion.
And dives in to the depths.
After a few seconds it finds a red dream.

The fork cradles its catch.
The jello is happy.
The fork is happy.
The jello on my fork.

Kuybeezk by Paul

A deer....
a big sword - it turns, turns, turns, turns,
For that is the bird

Fried Applesauce by Plastic Brain Carrier

Once while I was walking,
I stumbled upon a shoehorn.
I tried to use it on my shoe,
But hark--
My shoe was filled with applesauce.

So I took that shoe to my living quarter,
While grave indignity I wept,
For that applesauce was mine,
It was raining outside,
But still I grabbed a frying pan.

The burner slowly reddened,
As I turned up the heat,
IT left my shoe-
It LEFT my shoe-
It left MY shoe-
It left my SHOE-
And IN to the frying pan it went.

Ut, ut, Rick, thanks for the pan,
For without the pan,
It would not be possible;
Yea I trembled as I watched it fry,
The vapors filled my nasal orifices.

Oh with one quick, carefully thought-out gulp,
I transfered the applesauce from the pan,
It burned my throat as it slid down,
but I was a new man now.

Backup Stop Onwards

If you like anything here, or if you don't, please e-mail Cliff you trike Anna Blingere, Horifumount, cheese free-pail pilkiat Mip Rorg.