Why My Poetry Is Shit

by Adam Di Carlo

I am a pretentious little worm you see
I am so densely superficial
You can't even see through me
And this pest manifests
In my sickening and nauseating poetry
From snotting teenage angst:

"Why do nice girls hate me?"
"Why is my skin bad?"

And fuck! I think I'm Byron or Shelley
And with horrid, fecal dribble 'Lost love' poems

"My sweet dearest love, please come home
My sweet ray of moon honey sweets
Why did our love break?"

And fuck! I think I'm Elliot or Blake.

Then to those boring vomity
Completely mystifying collection
Of nonsensical meaningless abstract
Twatsmear garbage like:

"Some purple Scotsman gave me an unripe banana
Because his cousin ordered several fatted calves
That pointed to my dandy bobo
And consorted with the ever present segregated worms
Who always played bridge
When the messiah's nappy needed to be changed
Because he just ate too much beer"

And fuck! I think I am Thomas or Shakespeare.

Though I put even the insane off
If I wanted to I could write like Chekov.

Amateur poetry should finish with 'Baba Black Sheep'
And right there be put to sleep
But I think I am
The greatest philosopher of our time
As I live in a world of contrived shitty
Couplets, sonnets and rhymes.

I think the world is green
And I use words that I don' t know
What they mean.

Substandard pretentious twaddle
Setting my poor friends' brains to rot
While they be polite and smile
Instead of saying "Just fucking stop!"

 

This poem is taken from Total Cardboard issue 5, and remains under copyright. For more information see www.totalcardboard.com