Welcome to the 38th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest! This is a special week, because the infamous Bruce Goodman has offered to judge!!!
If you’re new or looking for a brush-up, here‘s a basic outline of what ‘terrible poetry’ means. Ready? Great!
Here are the specifics for this week:
- Topic: Plot twists. Lament about how often stories have them, include a few in your poem, or pull a fast one on us and keep the poem going exactly where we expect.
- Length: Since this is Bruce’s first time, let’s be nice to him and keep the word count under 200.
- Rhyme? Your call. Have fun with it!
- As the #1 rule listed at #4, make it terrible. I want Bruce himself, master of the macabre story twist, to shake his head in disbelief and secretly envy the part of the twisting Roman gutters in which your mind lies.
- Rating? For general audiences, keep things PG-13 or cleaner. Bleep it out if you really need to release a torrent.
****NOTE**** The due date is slightly earlier, so I can get Bruce the list of entrants.
You have till 11:59 p.m. MST next Thursday (August 15) to submit a poem.
Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week.
For a more social experience and to ensure we receive it, include your poem or a link to it in the comments.
Have fun!
Photo credit:
Pawel Janiak
I’ll be sure to participate in this one. Seems fun 😀 Thanks Chelsea
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I’m not sure if I really want to put you guys through this… oh what the heck, it’s SUPPOSED to be terrible 😉
On a midday dreary
My eyes were all a-teary
As I had a report to do
My boss, grim-tongued mastered
Was such an awful bastard
Would kick me with his shoe
No way could it be finished by COB
And my boss knew it, that SOB
But he still goaded me with bull poo
So I decided, what the heck
I tied the noose around my neck
And went to hang myself in the loo
But when I rose, I heard something scary
And noticed an office fairy
Writing page after page of the report, over one hundred and two
I was saved and wouldn’t die!
Maybe my boss wasn’t such a terrible guy
Maybe he’d give a raise too!
As I started to celebrate I heard the clock
Ring the bells of five o’clock
And started to feel blue
For I was sleeping at work, it would seem
And the help of a kindly elf was all a dream
And my career was over, it is true
So I dove out the window instead of the door
I might have died, but I worked on the first floor
Now I need to go work someplace new
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We’re looking for masculine men
Who’ll fight with lions in a den
Not church boys or skinny dudes
Who cry with each turn of their moods
We want these men for our parade
We want them to be icons who’ll never fade
Yes, yes for the big bash
Where real men eat, brawl and smash
Wee doo wee la la la woo
And some super masculine Kung fu
We doo wee la la la woo
And some hyper masculine farts in the loo
We doo wee la la la woo
And let’s kill some cows. Mooo!
Yes, we want these men for this big event
Where they’ll lie in a pink tent
Stretch, stomp, jump, skip, flex
And some super masculine muscles like T-Rex
Stretch. stomp, jump, skip, flex
And some hyper masculine gay sex!
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Nitin!
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Just celebrating protein shakes, Spartans, sweaty gym buffs and aggressive bad boys, that’s all!
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*shakes head
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*points to the man with tattoos wearing leather*
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Bruce? What’s HE doing here?
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😂 He’s playing the keyboard for my punk band. We’ve decided to scream bone the clown at a record pace while we guzzle down monster energy drinks. Pure adrenaline dude! The rush! The drive! The life! You’re invited, but I’m not sure if you’re invited to the parade that follows. That’s an eight pack showing, bearded, all male machismo thing with skip, stomp, lift and flex. And hyper masculine gay sex!!
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Yoda was the all seeing Jedi Knight
Yet was fooled with a hood and a dodgie light
While Luke was being the Star Wars Galahad
Who honestly thought that Vader was his dad
Bruce Willis seemed the perfect host
But ended up being a sodding Ghost
Poor Liberty Valence ended up getting shot
By John Wayne that’s a strange train of thought
The Sting was a shock when Paul and Robert copped it
But it just ended up being a gigantic counterfeit
The Village tried to fool us with a bit of double play
But it ended up being set in the Present Day
Anthony Perkins seemed such a nice chap
Yet as Mum and a psycho he got me into a flap
Seven tried so hard to subvert
By having a Box in the desert
Vertigo was Very very bleak
Judy being Madeleine was a bit of a cheek
Who in the Murder on the Orient Express would be first to admit
But what a sneaky trick to have them all do seem do it
The Wizard of Oz seemed strangely certain
Yet the wizard was a sad bloke behind a curtain
Reservoir Dogs was as cool as a soda pop
Yet sneaked in that Mr Orange was in fact a cop
Wow Scream tried smoke and mirrors
All to hide we didn’t have one but two killers
Jacobs Ladder tried to hide the thread
Hang on a moment another one who is dead
Even poor Harry Potter tried to be as shifty as a Manx Cat
I never saw Peter Pettigrew was Scabbers the Rat
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I’m in an airport and wrote a terrible poem that won’t win, but I wrote it.
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I passed it on to the proper authorities. 😉
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