ForumThe Sandbox ► Bad poetry for bad people
Roses are red
Violets are red
Everything's red
Because I killed you.
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji.
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji.
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji.
I must seek Buddha
I must seek Christ
I must seek therapy
And now, an experiment in minimalism.
And now, a REAL experimentation in minimalism
Bad minimalism, we have.
Stupid little booger!
Oh how you tickle my nose!
You make me sneeze but don't eject,
The tickle doesn't slow!

Stupid little snot face,
Oh how you've wrecked my home!
Me and all my booger-slime friends
Are shaken in your nose!
Wizard, wizard, in my head
Wizard, wizard, in my bed
I have a wizard fetish.
The solar system is beaming with chaos-driven reactions.

We exist as four-dimensional superstructures. Nothing is impossible.

The future will be a sensual refining of insight.

Our conversations with other dreamweavers have led to a maturing of ultra-powerful consciousness. Reality has always been beaming with warriors whose chakras are baptized in conscious living. We are at a crossroads of spacetime and illusion.

You will soon be awakened by a power deep within yourself — a power that is archetypal, archetypal. As you vibrate, you will enter into infinite understanding that transcends understanding. Naturopathy may be the solution to what’s holding you back from a magnificent paradigm shift of guidance.

Serenity is the nature of joy, and of us. Peace is a constant. By maturing, we heal.

We must beckon ourselves and bless others.
If you have never experienced this fount devoid of self, it can be difficult to grow. How should you navigate this powerful nexus? Being, look within and recreate yourself.

Soon there will be a condensing of rejuvenation the likes of which the totality has never seen. The solar system is approaching a tipping point. This vision quest never ends.
Made this using a poem generator:

Where is the grimy rain?
Never shove a sidewalk.
The noisy job calmly grabs the flower.
Hoods shrink!
Trucks work like dusty streets.

I especially like the second line.
            c    i    t      i       e          s
too often

Apparently anything can be a poem if it
Blimey cracked a bloomy's nose
Blinded by a who-chan
Finding pearly ooh's and oh's
Over by the toucan

By which I mean
Things without meaning
Can be a poem

I am the egg man wooooo
They are the egg man wooooo
I am the walrus
Coo coo cachoo
I like cheese
I like bagels
I could even eat a baby dear.
But what if?
Ahhh! "I'm naked in my class!" my head said screaming
my peers faces crimsion beaming
with laughter at my nudity.

A thought comes that I'm merely sleeping
so in order to put an end to this dreaming
I take a pen and shove it into my spleen.

My peers faces go from red to white as my blood seeps out from my spleen
I look at them calmly and say "Its ok I'll be dead soon this is just a dream"
It was just at this moment that I looked at the board which read: "The spleen is not a vital organ"

I decided to make the process quicker by striking the vitals
my peers ran screaming as if they were the ones in agony.
I stood up laughing at my dream peers in apathy.

I looked down feeling nauseous
I saw a blood soaked shirt
red tainted pants
and I fell to the floor and never woke up.

In a similar vein:

I cannot hold tomorrow in my hands
I cannot chain together all of time
I cannot build a castle from its sands
But I can write a pointless little rhyme
Here's five syllables
Another seven then stuff
about nature. Clouds.
Fun fact of the day:
Haiku did not have to fit
My bad poem:

The moon sang her to sleep
Every night
A light while she weeped
A million miles away
Whilst from her path she strayed
Holding on to something bright
Holding on all through her plight

I'm a little teapot
Short and stout
I have a kitten
Just look at my groceries
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I have a fucking knife
Get in the goddamn van kids

(I do not take credit for this. Random Town of Salem dude, you suck at the game but you win at life...kind of.)
These are hella silly.
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