the second worst poetry in the Universe

The old man sat at his computer.

Why has the world become so dumb?
Tortured cats doing stupid tricks
Semi-serious scholars spinning stupid shticks
and to the real problems we’ve become numb
barbaric bitching by bloodthirsty
babbling buffoons
brazenly boasting
so many selfies surrealistically seized
misquoted masters, misogyny malfeasance
terse terminology turning thing tense
sarcastic snipping sans sufficient sense
please prepare paper properly for my pens
Lacking loyalty love or a lavender lens
hate has a hold of your heart
and those that escape are trapped and un-smart
silly celebrities selling their souls
for fame, fabulous fame, fucking fabulous fame
not for glory or honor or legends about their name
just notoriety and attention
a passings friendly mention

Oh, look, a cat video.
If I share this, I should get a dozen likes.

 

Promt for June 1st from: The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts For Your Writing Practice byKelli Russell Agodon

Listened to songs on that old stereo
Monkees and Beatles then Jan and Dean
When dad heard the Beach Boys playing their songs
It’s the happiest he’s ever been

Oh, I get lost in a world full of sound
Yeah, I get lost in a world full of sound
Oh, I get lost in a world full of sound

Buddy Holly sang a magical tune
Crying, Waiting, Hoping, Peggy Sue
Richie Valens on an old forty five
You know his love for Donna was true

Oh, I get lost in a world full of sound
Yeah, I get lost in a world full of sound
Oh, I get lost in a world full of sound

I don’t need anybody
I just need music and sound
I feel like I’m somebody
I crave that music and sound

Elton brought forth his miraculous voice
Although Bernie wrote down every word
Neil was a diamond who could spin a tale
The story of my life is that love burns

Oh, I get lost in a world full of sound
Yeah, I get lost in a world full of sound
Oh, I get lost in a world full of sound

I don’t need anybody
I just need music and sound
I feel like I’m somebody
I crave that music and sound

Oh, I get lost in a world full of sound
Yeah, I get lost in a world full of sound
Oh, I get lost in a world full of sound
Yeah, I crave that music and sound

 

 

 

Promt for June 1st from: The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts For Your Writing Practice byKelli Russell Agodon

I am an interstellar fellar
a rock star I do it the Milky Way
while you choose obtuse
I look for a butter way

All my legends are true
you can recite them to please me
Yes, all the myths, whether
improbable or cheesy

My skin is so shimmering shiny
you don’t have to laugh
Mom: human, Pythais, dad, Appollo
They call me half and half

When you step to the golden calf
or rather golden thigh, ice cream
I’ll take what you give and Junket
I’m a golden arrow Pythagorean

You are So, whipped and sour
I’ll dunk you in a milk bath
Just don’t tell anyone
I just don’t know how to math.

Always changing, but oddly holding on to empty traditions
Masters of the atom bomb, we did that, twice
Everything is about us.
Remember when is our favorite phrase
Intelligence is mocked, because the trolls must pull you into the pit
Cancer still exists but we have managed to create better delivery systems for peanut butter and sugar
Assholes, aggressive agro assshats always accepting another awful authoritarian

Amazing artists accepting all
Mesmerizing musicians mastering muse made melancholy
Excelling in technology and triumphs
Rising from the ashes of Nirvana, scraping off the greed generation
Intelligence reborn, taking control, surviving
Candidly admitting that we stumbled, hoping to regain our footing
Always striving

While I slept on pillow softly,
Plans were made to destroy me awfully

The gnomes and trolls snuck into my bed
and shoved a car jack inside my head

They keep stomping down onto the lever
To destroy someone this way is very clever

A few more stomps and my skull will crack
And then the world will fade to black

 

He put a spike on my forehead
And brought the hammer down
I got no rest last night in my bed
I am loopier than a clown.

Stupid head cold.

My DVD Collection
has suffered from dissection.
Donnie has flown the coop.

Tyler is missing in action
With Clerks, I get no satisfaction
Vincent Vega is also among the missing group.

I used to have every classic at my finger tips
I kept all the cases and kept the sleeve and slips
But now, I have to suffer with Duece Bigalow, European Gigalo

All the good films are gone
and I am left with the couch and ottoman
and B films that aren’t even ironically funny

She took the pots and pans and coffee table
She did leave the microwave!
But I’m sure that would have gone too if she were able
So I sit on the floor and watch The Underground Comedy Movie and Other People’s Money
 

I do not like Whistler’s mother
for, she gave birth to the whistler.

I do not mind a happy tune
But why whould whyou whimsically whistle while whizzing?

WHEALLY!

And I do not mind snapping to a jazzy arrangement.
Except for the jazz part, it’s a fine endeavor.

But snipping and snapping is such a sanctimonious sign, saying “Sir, Seriously sir, swiftly steam your espresso so I can spill my Sanka!”
It sizzles my spine so  sufficiently and substantially that I want to slaughter all snappers.

And that Miss Clappy McClapperson
I wish mishap upon that hapless person.

Slapping your meat fists together with every second step pretending that you are the half wit in the marching band who could only be trusted to smack two giant sheets of metal together but you are even to dumb for that so all you get to do is flutter your flubber cakes together and … CLAP.

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, Snap.

Snap, CLAP, snap snapple snap CLAP.

Whistle, Snap Clap.

Oh dear.
The worst of them all.
To this tremendous beast, even this hero may fall.
The Whistle-Snap-Clap Dragon from days of yore.

STOP CLAPPING AND SNAPPING AND WHISTLING.  Your mother is a whore!

I do not like Whistler’s mother.

It all makes sense to someone out there I hope.
Have no false idols but worship the pope.

Their talk is mastering incongruity
They mock brilliance and ingenuity

They sit and bitch and discuss how they would have done it
But they ran like scared weasels  when given the chance to run it

The meek will inherit the earth once it reaches a state of total annihilation
Today the leaders of industry rack up another parole violation

Once upon a time in America the major stress was getting home to watch Cheers at nine
Now the stress is the credit card bill from buying enough TVs to watch 57 channels all at the same time.

This poem was started a week ago and I forgot what the point was
The ringing in my ears has turned all my thoughts into disjointed fuzz.

I think I wanted to explore the idea of mass hypocrisy.
And find faults with the crass theocracy

But I was distracted by life and art fell by the wayside
Oh, look, a marathon featuring the kids of Bayside!

I hope this one simple fact is clearly understood:
You have all beaten up and destroyed my childhood.
I used to rush home from school  wearing backwards baseball hats
To watch animated cats infuriate dogs and painted mice  aggravate other cats.

Now for cartoons we have to wait for prime time so they can snort cociane
Or rape an alien, shoot their mother, destroy the planet or sell propane.

Cartoons were all morning Saturday
Prime time was for Cosby and Cliff Claven
Now prime time is reality
And Saturdays were something about a Raven

I know that show is over and long since deceased
And she  has come from the closet with her pant suit pleated and creased.
But Disney killed the Gummi Bears, Chip and Dale, and Duck Tales
And put on High School musicals because the merchandise had better sales.

I remember a Sesame Street that didn’t have Elmo motor boating Katy Perry,
Just a giant bird, some monsters, and a vampire that was far from scary.
A vampire, who by the by, did not shimmer and shine
He just counted.  Yes he counted all the time.  Ah ah ah.

And we never tried to pass off rhyming a word with itself.
And to find a rhyme or synonym we had to look upon the shelf.
I remember getting in fist fights with other kids, not redundant text arguments from an iPad.
I remember bicycles without the helmets and skateboarding without a pad

I remember when rolling eyes were met with belt or paddle
The same fate befell on any kid who would tattle
And when Suess was king because he rhymed words with words when they were pronounced correctly
Now, you can go far and be a star, just slur your speech a bit  and tell the kids to break a neck, G!

Only a few toys needed batteries and none required a power pack
My Lincoln Logs built ground up from my wooden stack
I built by Legos piece by piece reds upon the green
Now my Legos walk and breath upon the 52 inch screen

I am sure all of the kids will look back in twenty years and feel so much humbler
It will be easy for them to remember since all their memories are now gifs on tumblr.