Well, well, well, class. This week you have made me truly proud. The level of terribleness was almost palpable; the rhymes painful; the “swearing” so very entertaining. Thank you.

As almost always, however, there can only be one winner. This week, that winner is Ruth Scribbles.

YO MAMA

by Ruth Scribbles

Slam and a bam
And a hip hop cam

A buck and a tuck
And a Fock Fock Fock

Boo rah chee rah
Bum boom bah

My mama don’t like
Your mama thinks
She better

Rama mama not yo mama
Yo yo mama nana

Daddio patio
Whoop whoop whoooo

Im done with this rap
A tat a tat a tat tat
TAT

Congratulations, Ruth! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

I had a difficult time narrowing results down with the level of talent/cringe-ness for this round. After all was said and rhymed; Ruth’s winning points were her second stanza (A buck and a tuck / And a fock fock fock), her cliché rap references, and her poem’s overall terribleness.

At least two others were close finalists; and all made me laugh through my tears of pain. Read below, and enjoy them as well:

Untitled piece

by Nitin

Yo, yo, this is for all them fellas in the hood,
Don’t let the Five-O ruin your mood,
Let’s keep it gangsta till the end
Let’s fight them snitches and beat the reverend???
Yo, yo, I know I can’t rap for nuts
But I think my anaconda likes them big butts

—–

Untitled piece

by Doug

**** cool
stitch in time, mind ****
dress to the nines, fine
Chantilly lace hangin’
ditty bop well hung ****
hanging ****
banging ****
want you babe bad
bad *** jerky ****
chill hot

—–

It’s a Clean House, Yo

by Peregrine Arc

Yo, yo I stubbed my toe
Gotta get back now to shine my halo.
I mix my speaks, get down in my sneaks
And then I start the hammer on my
Beautiful Louisiana

Vroom, vroom now grab the broom
Word, we’ve got laundry to do.
We must clothe a thousand men
With all the clothes in this here pig pen.

So grab that broom,
Cause you know how we do.
And before you know it, girl…
We got this house shining like a pearl!

My, my, my the house look so fly
That’s what happens when you clean.
So serene, so lean, so pristine
I need to call my girl, Justine.

Now check yourself before you wreck yourself–to the chorus!

Wax on…wax off.
Wax on…wax off.
Momma didn’t raise no fool now–
Wax on…wax off.
Wax on…wax off.

Word to your Hoover.

—–

The Anti-Rap Rap (audio version)

by Trent McDonald

I don’t do rap
But some of the time
Put the pencil to the paper
For some pretty mean rhyme

Anti-rap rap
The anti-rap rap

I try to go deep
But it’s often Willy-nilly
I Can look pretty stupid
Or write very silly

Anti-rap rap
The anti-rap rap
*Something like this* Techno

Often my verse
Comes out perverse
–
Send it away in a Hearst!
With a loud curse

For
I might say “you lose with booze”
Or you might bring me good news
But the words I use
Show my views
Have no Clues!

They stick out
Like Sore Tooths!

See?
It’s not to be!
Don’t have the key
No good rhyme for me!

More techno
Anti-rap rap
The anti-rap rap
Techno solo

I spew this stuff
Shovel it up in a pile
But my one big hope
Is Today….

Today…

I made you smile!!

Anti-rap rap
The anti-rap rap

—–

Fa la la la la – A rap

by Bruce Goodman

Verse:
You say you don’t want me in your life
Well that cuts like a knife
You say that life’s a breeze
You can say what you please
It won’t bring me to my knees
You’re such a sleaze.
You’re just like the old woman who lived in a shoe
I don’t know why she reminds me of you.
You think I’m going on and on with this rap
Well just cut the crap
I too can talk the talk
And I don’t give a fork.

Chorus:
I don’t give a fork
I don’t give a fork
Fa la la la la
I don’t give a fork.
You dork.

—–

Camel Meat with Thyme

by D. Wallace Peach

It a crime not to rhyme
Or do time in the clamor slammer
For the chime of the hammer
Don’t be a mammal
Better trammel
On a camel. Huh.

What you yammer in a verse
Don’t need to rhyme perverse
Keep the curse in your purse
How you like my meat
Cooking camel in the heat
Serve it with a beet. Huh.

Sometime gotta play the game
Gotta eat the meat, Pete
We rap a beat the same
With a handle for our name
Wolfing camel or parakeet
Ain’t it a culinary treat. Huh.

—–

Oi

by Deb Whittam

My mom said a ok
You will cook or I’ll make you pay
You do nuthin but twitter and insta
So I think its time you all cooked me dinna.

—–

Thank you all. Peace out.

Ruth: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner: