About half the poets were kick-ass, and I was well received too. I was told by the guy running it to come back tomorrow (2/15) and read again . These other poets (my sister included) spoke exactly the kind of words that would grace this site, ripping on everything from George Bush fucking up his speeches to Reality TV. The words I heard brought a grin to my face that only seeing a deer get hit by a semi could bring. Unfortunately, not all of the readers were this talented. There was a good smattering of mind-numbing drones as well. They were the dreaded pseudo-intellectual poets that try to achieve greatness by throwing a bunch of big words together. All you really have to do to be like them is pick the 10 longest words out of the dictionary. Then you put them on a piece of paper and surround them with crafty words about how your life is full of "misery and woe." It ends up being the poetic equivalent of an angry jaguar clawing your dick off but they think it sounds good.
If by some miracle this style of poetry overtakes the cut-the-bullshit style of myself and others, I need to be prepared. I'm going to prepare myself and entertain you all at the same time. What I'm going to do is try my hand at Pseudo-shredded dick poetry and see how it turns out. This first one is going to be about syphilis.
Staring at the ceiling, divert my attention I try. For the fire in my crotch forces me to cry.
Itch, oh lord how I itch it several times. Bitter consequence, for banging all those mimes.
Black and white-faced, like so much static TV. A few silent hip thrusts beckoned to me.
The mime drew me in, I could not resist. Cursed I am now, with acute syphilis.
The doctor laughed, and prescribed me some crèmes. Now all I see is cute French mimes in my dreams.
The sores sit and stare at me with great content. Now I wonder where my girlfriend went.
What could I do but drag her down with me. I mustn’t be the only one to wince when I pee.
My nutsack feels like a fleshy ball of fire. It also reeks like meat that’s expired.
I would swallow a million aspirin to end it all. I can’t live with rusty nails through each ball.
Why do I deserve this genitalia defecation? Like hanging my scrotum from the tower of a radio station.
A pound of ice sits and cools my poor schlong. I’m on paid vacation from work 4 days long.
I called my boss and told him I had AIDS. He said “Ok, how’s tomorrow, 8:30 , at your place?”
Now that I know about my sick-fuck supervisor, it’s time to file disability and retire.
Some people say I cry and some say I whine. You would too with allergies bad as mine.
Allergic to cats, showers, girls and peas. Some bullies once tried to kill me with bees.
I wore and N’Sync shirt once in the seventh grade. My mom said I looked sharp as a blade.
That day I went home with a black eye and 2 broken bones. After that I no longer worshipped Joey Fatone.
Those ingrate peers of mine just don’t understand, how feeble they are when I’m all man.
To them I’m a punching bag and dumpster deposit. To me they’re a target for the A.K. in my closet.
Tomorrow I’ll wear a trench coat to be scary and cool. Then during gym class I’ll pee in the pool.
One of these days I will teach them a lesson. About the stiffy I get while holding my Smith & Wesson.
My step-dad used to beat me with a baseball bat, that’s until I fed my step-sister to my cat.
He scarfed it down like a human Tender Vittles meal. Am I just sick or am I for real?
After that the big jerk quit all his bitchin’. Until I caught him nailing my mom in the kitchen.
Because of that event I’ve become impotent now. Disgusting is an elderly man doing the birthing sow.
I’ll end up as some slut corporate secretary. When I turn 19 I’ll be getting married.
Shooting out a bunch of kids will be my new hobby. If I happened to live in China they’d stop me.
But I’m an American idiotic cuntasaur, pictured in the dictionary next to the word whore.
Comfortable with the dirt I permeate, to sleep with me get in line and wait.
To your right is the grand canyon so take a snap-shot. Wait a second, that’s the size of my twat.
I cannot regurgitate who the first president is. But I can survive on a diet of jizz.
I’m known round the world for my promiscuous behavior. I’m also quite sure Joe Millionaire’s our savior.
Get a beer in me and I’m everyone’s best friend. No abacus can count the ways I can bend.
If you should need me, I’ll be shopping at Abercrombie. 500 dollars for a shirt, you can’t top it.
I’m so lucky my rich parents will buy me things. They even bought me these nipple rings.
Now I will have the perfect excuse to show them off. This will exuberate the guys paying a quarter for my bra.
Someday I truly hope to be raped by Kobe Bryant. Then the lawyer down the road will have a new client.
Pseudo-intellectuals have tried to tell me of their plight but have been ignored instead.