Bad Poetry Thursday: I Used To Be Made Of Plastic

All four of these were written in the span of about...let me see...it's 9:52.....29 minutes! So you know they must be totally friggin' awesome.


Non-recyclable
by The Landfill

The only thing I know of
That can't be recycled
Is a memory.
It just gets re-written
until its resemblance to the actual event
is tenuous at best.
It doesn't get recycled
Just forgotten.


The Sound of A Thousand Feet
by Podi A. Trist

A thousand feet
More or less
Are what you need to grind bones into bread
To tread the many miles to the office.
A thousand feet
Are stomping at the bit
and skidding lengthwise toward
the empty vat
that used to hold our bread
before we broke and ate our bones.


When Dogs Lie and Pigs Fly
by Total Nuclear Warfare

I saw a tinsel cat the other day
it adorned a tree of stone and twine.
I thought "what odd things are done with tinsel,
Nowadays, at least."
I also ate a trundle bed the other day
It was all that remained of yesteryear
And I was wont to see it gone.
It tasted of bad taste
and rotten cotton
and ancient hopes.
The mattress was too much for me
I couldn't finish.
Like many things
it was too soft
and full of hidden metal.
I lost an eye to jumping springs
and washed my hands of it forever.



11 O'clock on Thursday
by Alfred P. McMatoat

What light from yonder window breaks?
The glow of ten thousand glowing screens
of course.
What other light could make the world
so frightening and grotesque?
Blue glow is a haunting shade.
It never goes out.