the second worst poetry in the Universe

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.

I forgot your birthdate, I am irresponsible.
The rent check is late, I am irresponsible.

It isn’t that I have overextended.
It’s just that my brain has been chopped up and blended.

I am not good with routines.
The number of things I forget on a regular basis is obscene.

If you give me a task, I have to do it right now.
This is my mantra, this is my tao.
I am irresponsible.

My brain is empty when my belly is full.
Every time I sneeze I lose a million thoughts.
How long ago did we load the oven with tater-tots?

I am irresponsible, by this you should not be amazed.
Which restaurant would you like to dine at, for now my kitchen is all ablaze.

She looked deep in my eyes
Then she spread both her thighs
I saw a glimpse of white
My jeans got a bit tight
she smiled as the bell rang
this is the song I sang

I want to take you to the dance
Please will you just give me the chance
I want you to take off my pants
I would die for just one more glance

Thoughts of her racked my brain
This led to more groin pain
Oh god, did she mean it
Was I meant to see it
Math class went on too long
I sang this damn dumb song

Oh, Let me take you to the dance
Thoughts of you have me in a trance
I think I saw a bit of France
I would die for just one more glance

Her heart gave out in gym
Dove in to have a swim
did not come up for air
The kids all stood and stared
She sunk like she was lead
That girl is cold and dead

I did not take her to the dance
Looks like I will not get the chance
I wish I could have one more glance
I would die for just one more glance

She showed what was up her skirt
I think that was her way to flirt
I would die for just one more glance
Oh, she had me in such a trance
I would die for just one more glance