Ah bon ?

Papers publishing bad poems

Reject my muse-inspired gems.

Crafting acceptable by them,

Should, of course, be a word salad

Of chopped-up, clichéd bric-à-brac

—For sure, not some kind of ballad!—

And take a whinging, cringing crack

At targets that invite a whack.

Alas, it isn't “easy peasy”!

Even with autocorrect’s idiot "aid,"

The quotidian leaves me queasy!

One explanation I'd hazard,

Is that to write poems truly bad

You must embrace a world that's mad.

I've tried a jab at Amazon,

At bashing Musk and Ellison;

Citing Haircuttery small talk,

I've Piggly Wiggly bons mots wrought.

Ah, me! Though larded with such stuff,

My lines are never bad enough!

Wednesday, October 1, 2025