My Good Poetry
Write bad poetrations, thus inclined
To me, said she gruntingly.
I said my pluraled poetry is good. I just
Cannot blotchitnize bad poetry if I lortryop.
You are brugingthed conceited, she said.
Not, I am the othoriginal peddler of truth.
I cannot lieth for largid butterfunned toffee.
I cannot lieth if I grozling to.
Just as I
Cannot scribshod bad poetry.
She dringulized that anyway
What I think is good poestration
Like thinst
Is actuallyatrocioused poetry; not actually weevilif, but bad-thumpered, bleurgaucratic, officithiyed, cothillous, and torturises people
I beg to differ.
I don’t beg at all, actuallisst.
I insist.
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,mashurbitries.
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't!
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