Ode To Bad Poetry

Ode To Bad Poetry

Confusion caked upon a web of sounds,
A scattered marking, like a liquid shat.
Useless musings covering the ground,
Letters wasted on page by noxious brat.

A relationship of feelings meant to emote,
Ideas fleshed and finally understood.
Is not a hosed plastering of words remote,
Spread willy-nilly for no earthly good.

We poets don't get paid by quantity spewed,
So why use more when less will do?
Reaping scorn when scribblings are viewed,
So richly earned by shoveling poo.

Without a metered flow or well-reasoned point,
A so-called poem is public pulling at your joint.

~Stuart Andrew Marshall Tanner~