Ms Mausi's Pretentious Poetry Corner...

...last night I was reading some really awful poetry. I could understand a lot of the emotional stuff going on in the poet's mind and her need to express it, but the whole thing was just nearly unreadable. The spelling was so off-base for a minute I thought it was intentional. (Not like my spelling, where I misspelled "recipe" for several years, apparently.)

I feel kind of guilty enjoying reading bad poetry, but I can't help it. Bad poetry, bad books, bad screenplays, bad movies. I love them when it's awful. Maybe it's some kind of validation for me; something along the lines of, "Well, my writing may suck from time to time, but at least I'm better than that one girl who couldn't spell, or that one guy who couldn't write dialogue if you held a taser to his head, or that movie with all the occult jewelry they could find at Spencer gifts..."

So in that vein, I offer...

Ode to my Cow-irker's hamburger:

Oh Hamburger, you smell so juicy,
And not of game, so you're not moose-y,
And with the french fries you are garnished!
My own lunch does seem quite tarnished;
when compared to this repast
from MCAD's lunch line--though not fast,
yet tastier by far
than tires torn from a speeding car....

I only with that you were mine;
I'd steal you if I had a spine...





Thank you, thank you, I'm here all week...

*ahem*: You think you're so hot with the poetry? Gimme your worst shot!! I bet it can't be any worse than mine:)