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!