Poems For Non Poetic People

That ugly duckling face of yours resembles the back end of a horse, that second face you have a gory sight a clogged lavatory orange bright, both worthless to the human race, so I’ll tell you to your two feaces of face know your place with human waste. Pressing the pen so hard it cuts paper, forcing the ink bleed like skin cut by razor, hairs and pores but like rhymes of yours no blood pours, it sticks needs lotion won’t float or flow and sinks below, motionless, a photo, a negative that never gives us clever gifts. These words you serve I’ve never heard hence I don’t know what occurred, that sentence suspense punctured, to nerdy, so reverse and rewordy the surplus, from a degree certificate to absorb like a gut imagery. and just cus you think I just curse and disgust N must hush cus I don’t pen push like a gold rush while you old rust pealing and as appealing as carboniferous gush, just guff single cell life forms, on speak and spell platforms wiped out by rainstorms overcomplicated brainstorms, the dictionary we pick up repeatedly scurry through for meaning, it's defeating me, what's happening? This is mentally shattering, it don't mattering! See I'm a poet that goes for non poetic people, easy small common words keep it simple, flow like birds not a nerd of geekle, that means herd of geek people, you seek to grow the rows but no, no grow, in my mind, blows, sucks, nose dive, no one knows what it says so, destructs rive. you might have got A's the whole way through school while I was an a-hole in school, they don't want academic they want relatable, your writing style's easily hateable, it's not subjective debatable but rejected with hate by all, Die-a-bollock-ball. I'm sick of poems I dont understand, upside down Dutch in a handstand, you think they're grand like a bandstand but the taste sand bland, like spam in your hand there's no expanding demand, intelligent, it's evident, not reaching minds, irrelevant, I'd rather look at a sleeping elephant. I do it so anyone can read through, you write big words you don't need to, send us on a Great Exhibition 1852, the last time these words were used before you. No flow to float your quote it sinks with less motion than a photo stinks like a hobo in decline with no incline no yo-yo and shows skills shrink when you overthink like a bozo.