Looks, it's about time someone addressed the elephant in the room. It's about time someone addressed this.

Poetry sucks.

You know it. I know it. We all know it.

So, let's all get on with our lives.

It's a little early in the year to be going off your meds, don't you think, Eric?

It's not my favorite.

I like it. Sometimes I try writing a few verses, even. But don't worry, those attempts are clearly labeled so they may be easily avoided.

I like when it rhymes.

oh yeah, it's not bad when it rhymes.

If it doesnt rhyme, they should call it something else.

Showetry.

Grow a tree.

I just rhymed.

Limericks rock.

Roses are blue
violets are red
This poem's messed up
and so is your head.

There was an young boy from Japan
Whose poetry never would scan.
When asked why this was,
He answered, "Because
I always try to cram as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can."

Where the Sidewalk Ends


There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

-Rob Steinbrenner

There was a Green Lantern from Venus,
who protected Pluto and Earth and between us.
He had crab claws for hands and flippers for feet
so his ring he did wear on his penis.

First you get puking and mewling
Then very pissed off with your schooling
Then fucks and then fights
Then judging chaps' rights
Then sitting in slippers-then drooling.

I think the technical term for this is "enjam-ment."

Bump for our newer members.

Wait. Poetry Sucks? Damn.

No argument from me.

I miss Eric's wisdom.

I really like it.