Though not everyone celebrates all the high questionable holidays you can find on the internet (Hi Kat!!!), I am celebrating this one. Today is Bad Poetry Day. When I saw that it was, I got all aflutter (which has to be the dumbest word ever invented, well next to turkey bacon, that is). I do bad poetry all the time! Why just 2 blog posts ago I actually dabbled in awful poetry with my ode to Match Game, my personal chicken soup for the soul.
So, what better way as a wannabe writer to celebrate Bad Poetry Day than by writing…you guessed it, an 1100 word dissertation about how you should not be able to see the bottom of Porta-Potties when inside of them, especially at public functions like fairs and sporting events where there is really good food because you’ll lose your appetite faster than Lindsay Lohan lost her virginity…or credibility, your pick. Ok, I’m kdding.
So, here is some bad poetry. Some written before, some brand new. I’d offer prizes if you picked which was which, but I don’t want to. Enjoy the bad poetry…
Facebook, Facebook, why do you dislike me so?
You disable my account as often as that of my friend Beau.
It is because I comment too much, or like to write on your walls?
Tis better I say, than writing on bathroom stalls.
I find it ironic that “I Can’t Live Without You by Nilsson” is playing as I type this.
That has no bearing on my poem, but it’s my poetic license.
On your site, I can talk to my long lost friends, much to my delight.
But then you disable me, in the middle of the night.
Perhaps I misunderstood what social networking means.
To you, I guess it’s only worth a hill of beans.
As soon as this is seen, I’m sure I’ll be disabled again.
And then I’ll be forced to create another profile that ends in “Christelman.”
Ode To Match Game
I love watching Match Game, that isn't so lame. Though some of your panelists were not very tame. There was Richard Dawson, always in the mood. That is until he joined the Family Feud.
And there was Brett Somers and Charles Nelson Reilly. They both could say just one thing, to make you go smiley (bear with me, I don't have a lot to work with here).
Dumb Dora got her blank stuck in a jar. You always had to be careful to not take it too far. On a card your answer you would quickly scribble. The only word I can think to rhyme with that is dribble.
The contestants would hesitate to say something dirty. Though Gene Rayburn would try by getting so flirty. With his long thin mic he'd laugh and he'd ask. After all, that was this man's task.
The panel was always so hip and so bold. Which is remarkable because they also were old. I can imagine they'd party with shag carpets and wine. They were so cool, almost before their time. They had great sayings and lots of word tricks. Especially on Match Game 76.
But alas, Gene Rayburn I'm not, that much is true. But I'll fill in the blank, if you'd give me a clue. Then maybe for once our answers would jive, even though your panelists are no longer alive...
Hi Mr. Banilow. Yes, I am quite a Fanilow.
This One’s for You and all that you do
I like your music in a bar, I like your music from afar.
I like Mandy even more than I like cotton candy
No, I can’t smile without you, that much is true.
I’d like to take a weekend in New England
But when there wouldn’t be able to stop that song you’re singin
Although you didn’t write I write the songs,
Someone other than you singing it would just be wrongs (see, with the “s” at the end it guarantees it being bad poetry)
Then of course there is my favorite - Copacabana
Which is known from here to Japana
It looks like we’ve made it so I will wrap up this little ode
And then I will head right on down the road
So Mr. Manilow, please keep on singing
Even if doing so makes other’s ears keep ringing
Syllables in five
I would rather speak in jive
Ok, that’s enough
A Love Affair With Cheese and Bacon
Cheese and Bacon
There is only one thing I can say
I must have you every single day
Not doing so gives me a rash
I am not sure what rhymes with rash
On you both, I would spend all my cash.
Hey, I just found a rhyme for rash
One is from a pig, the other from a cow
I’d like to merge the two, but am not sure how
Together your flavors would be exquisite
This is a subject I would like to revisit
So, my arteries I allow you to harden
I just wish I could grow you in my garden
Crazy A$$ Jedi
A poem about you will I write
Nothing but a Muppet you are
Gonzo’s voice you possess
Small you appear to me
Taught many a Jedi you have
Yes just talking backwards I am
This poem, sucks? (Ok stole that line from my FAVORITE movie)
Happy Bad Poetry Day! I really hope you also do not celebrate it this way. Oh look, another rhyme...