Monthly Archives: December 2008

Episode II of Really Bad Poetry Written Way Too Late at Night:

We p’litely ignore them,
We rudely ascorn them,
But them dirty darn dishes
don’t never go away.

And so we wait a while,
and we complain a pile,
but them dirty darn dishes
don’t never go away.

We consider some kings,
and cabbages and things
but them dirty darn dishes
don’t never go away.

And then we squash some flies,
and we pick at the pies,
but them dirty darn dishes
don’t never go away.

They’re a thing that we hate,
and yet though it get late,
still them dirty darn dishes
don’t never go away.

If you know of a way
please tell us today
to get rid of them dishes
that never go away.

But please don’t be absurd
and tell us that you word
is to clean them up clean:
there’s a flaw in that scheme!

‘Cause we’ve tried it you know,
but they’re back by t’morrow!
And those dirty darn dishes

There is still no extra credit for correctly guessing why I was up so late.

If it hasn’t been abundantly, manifoldly obvious to you, I shall simply have to note that I don’t seem to really make any use of figure of speech, or subtly, or analogy, or hyperbole, or exageration. That’s just the way it is, and you either laugh or cry. It’s pretty easy to figure out which to do: if it’s someone else waiting their turn for the bathroom or someone else’s night to wash, you laugh. Loudly. If you’re waiting, or you have to wash the dishes, you cry. Loudly.

And now, for our feature presentation!

Episode One of Really Bad Poetry I Wrote Way Too Late at Night!!

It has come rather painfully to my attention that majority of songs and verse is no longer written for anything more than monetary gain; the daily woes and cares of the common man has been left behind. There are, of course, a few noteable exceptions. Like, for instance, this very touching song taught to me a few nights ago:

Joy the world, the Barbie’s dead!
We bar-b-qued her head!

But for the most part, the world of verse is in shocking dissarray, with ludicrous Disney songs getting into books that proclaim themselves as things like “110 of the Most Beautiful Songs Ever Written.” The closest people get to songs that actually have bearing in one’s actual life talk about your pick-up truck and your favorite dog dying on the same day. The sentiment is nice, but really, I do hate to break it to you, I have neither a pick-up truck nor a dog. I’m talking about more universal themes, sans the par-for-the-course the “girl who jilted me”, the “girl I jilted”, “the girl who thinks I’m going to jilt her, even though I swear I won’t jilt her like the last 15 girls I jilted”, and the “guy I didn’t expect to jilt me even though he jilted the last 15 girls” songs. More universal than that, even.

I feel, therefore, the great burden for the common man to once again speak for themselves. I am confident that no matter how awful my attemps, they will still be a welcome relief from commercial offerings. I am, alas, not melodious enough to put it properly to music, so you’ll simply have to read it aloud with great feeling, and let the words speak for themselves.

A bathroom we have one;
Of people we have twelve.
There’s never a line,
It’s always a circle—
Waver once, you’ll wait an hour;
never a moment’s peace
On either side of the

(P.S. No extra credit will be given for correctly guessing why I was up so late writing verse.)