Very Bad Poetry

I wish I may I wish I might, get hella trashed and fly a kite.
Take a walk in the park, sleep on benches, eat some bark.

There’s an awful smell, from my shoe. I know what that is, you do to.
I step in doo-doo all the time, fuck those dogs, oh wait it’s mine.
There’s a pretty lady over there, I better go and compliment her hair.

Ma’am you have perfect breasts, oh shit, you said your name is Rex?
Book it for the boardwalk fast, to get away from the she-man,
Dude look there’s a taco-stand; I wish I had a Hungry Man.
Damn I think I left my Kite. I’m not sure but I think I might.
Headed back to the green grass, something smells a lot like ass.
Oh wait, that’s my shoe, better go home and clean off the poo.

But first I must find my kite, hidden beneath a tree. There are people there, will they know I’m high…no, this will be a breeze.
Excuse me, have you seen my kite? What do you mean, it’s in my hand, oh…I guess your right.

It’s all starting to set in, I’m feeling really faded. And I can’t seem to think about anything but Sarah Palin Naked.
I wonder what she’d look like in stilettos and just that. Man if I could fuck her once, that’d be really phat. She’s the hottest mom who always frequents mass. I’d learn to play some hockey for one piece of that fine ass.

My thoughts are getting more uncouth, I better take a walk. Exercise clears your head, and I want to see the docks. But I’m really leaving because around my bench, there was a silent crowd. Mostly soccer moms, and kids, and I think I thought out loud.

I could really use some food, food sounds really nice. Maybe I’ll go to the chink shop and order some sticky rice. I’ll just pretend I didn’t think that, because it’s not very nice. I tend to get quite derogatory, when enjoying vice.

Mmm, that food was very good, but it’s time to venture home. Look at that kid over there, without a chromosome.

Goodness gracious there are trees around, it appears I’m in the woods, Evergreens and Maple leaves, I just looked and stood. Only one thing’s for sure, and it’s I’m not where I should.
The biggest question is am I in the woods for sure, because if I am, no ones around and ideas begin to stir.

I begin to think again of Sarah Palin, naked as can be. A dirty little secretary and rub myself against a tree.

Back in the park, there’s some girls talking in a group. I go use the restroom and take a mondo poop.
Coming out of the restroom the girls are still there. With short shorts and legs that kill, and eyes sensual and rare.
I think about talking to them, and acting very regal.
But it’s not the best idea, because odds are they’re not legal.

Several hours later, I walk in to my house. I start reading Winter’s Tale, and think Shakespeare is a louse. If I could ask him one question, it be: why art thou so descript? Or maybe even better yet, why art thou so full of shit.

While turning the tiresome pages I begin to recollect. I can’t believe I splooged in the woods, this day was a wreck. Oh no, could it be, a terrible thing I’ve left. I forgot my kite, and three grams of hash, beneath the tree,I lovingly met.

David Tristin has published since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of David's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of David's latest works: