June 13, 2004

I've read real poetry that wasn't this good

In fact, when I was a teenager I probably wrote poetry that wasn't this good:

The purple mouse adheres.
Mine round stupid slopy laptop sleeps.
Their noisy glasses smiles and still our children hairy smart mp3 player show its value.
Their bluish carpet falls.
Our noisy sony sleeps.
Their white stupid bicycle prepare for fight.
Her tall mouse is on fire and still his brothers odd shaped purple bicycle makes sound and our white dog show its value.
Whose shining book stares however, our golden underwares run.
Mine red smart table is thinking.
A white green ram smiles.
A given green glove fidgeting.
Their well-crafted spoon is angry.
Whose round sport shoes walks or a silver smart car fidgeting as soon as his noisy carpet walks.
A given round gun show its value.
Any tall kitchen smells or her bluish forg stands-still.
Our white dog looks around.
Her soft clock stinks.
Any golden round-shaped sofa is thinking.
Our white wine stands-still.
The soft forg stands-still.
His little soda calms-down.
Whose red soda calms-down at the place that our children purple hairy dog falls the time that his fancy spoon is on fire as soon as his brothers round-shaped golden computer snores or maybe a red kitchen stares.

...or maybe a red kitchen stares.

Doesn't that just sum it up...the suburban angst, the bitterness between the generations, the futility and finally, the hostile ennui?

I have tears in my eyes.

I'm not even sure what this spam is trying to sell, because they managed to screw up the html codes so the link doesn't work.

Posted by Nic at June 13, 2004 05:16 PM
Comments
Post a comment









Remember personal info?