Let the Competition Begin
Very impressive folks! The comments from The Silliest Love Poem I Ever Read have been priceless.If you don't know what I'm talking about, let me illustrate:
Rednaked said...
Chipmunks of hope? Is that like beavers of desire?
Larry Jones said...
I have become mired in the swamp of your doggerel and must clamber onto the raft of good sense to get the fuck out.
Thomas said...
"Her vulva was as wet, warm and slick as a spoiled cabbage on a radiator. My fingers traversed the tunnel of passion with the urgency of a trailer truck full of urgency."
These are so bad that they've inspired a literary contest.
We can definitely do much better ... I mean MUCH WORSE, than the silliest love poem, and these three commenters have already set a great ... I mean horrible example for the contest.
2 Hot Chiks is hosting:
THE HORRIBLE LOVE POEM CONTEST (2005)
E-mail, or Post your entries in the comments section.
The poems will be judged Monday February 14th.
The wretched sap of a winner will be notified of the Amazing Award at that time.
Remember: Bad is Better in this game!
*Preference will be given to the Horrible Love Poem that recognizes 2005, Year of Cunnilingus
posted by Theresa @ 2/10/2005 04:32:00 PM
10 Comments:
Oh my dearest hedgehog,
like a hedgehog you have burrowed into my heart.
My aorta is filled with your passionate feces,
for nothing you give out I take for granted.
I will fester with infection, and infection of love,
but I will not suffer because suffering isn't the word I meant to use, but was the only word I could think of for the way something wells up with wet result after being filled with something it was not filled with before. Or perhaps I meant infection. Yes.
Please do not forsake my love like those whose heads fester with the infection of rejection in my garage closet shelf of loneliness.
You requested a locket of hair, something of me for you to keep. My hedgehog, you already have my love, which is more deeper and more powerful than Jesus. It is the biggest piece of me that doesn't also have my DNA, but has my love as it is my love itself.
Please, come with me soon to the abandoned warehouse; Night will fall soon and we won't have another chance before night falls around to the other side of the planet, then back, and is here again mocking me for not having you by my side.
Do not let the night mock me, hedgehog.
Tell me you, and especially your U2 Edition iPod, are mine, and you, hedgehog, will occupy my entire chestcavity with your presence like something larger than a hedgehog and I will be happy to use you as lungs, heart, and other assorted organs you replace in your metamorphosis of love declaration.
I return I promise to eat your pussy...
Fried in a skillet with onions.
Yucky! Horrible!
Afterwards, I'll ride home on the bus,
to the washing machine at my crib.
Next time I perform cunnilingus,
I simply must wear a bib.
You get so juicy, baby:
So wet, warm and moist.
I slurp up your sex gravy
and it quenches my "thoist".
In my addled Bubonic Plague infested brain, I'm drawing a complete blank.
I hereby request a 7 day extension. If said extension is granted, I will be a slave boy to any of the female judges who happen to grant the extension.
With such good entries and my recent crushed hopes at becoming a singer, I may have to pass on this one. However, I will ponder the thought of the white trash poem to see if I can come up with something good while folding laundry. :)
Kudos to you quick thinkers out there!!!
Oh Bryna, Please try. I know you can do it. Find your Hot Chik vibe and roll with it, Gurl!
Joe, I will consult with the other judges and see what we can do.
Slave Boy huh? Are you fully prepared for the consequences of said agreement? (Now, where did I put my little red riding crop?)
My Woman - by Thomas
Oh my woman, you are like a summer day.
You are hot and sultry and make me sweat until my shirt is ruined from armpit stains.
You are full of sunshine and breezes, but not real sunshine and your breezes smell bad like poo.
You have flowers and animals and children playing in the park, except your children are still ova and the park they're playing in are your ovaries.
And like the sun on a summer day does down, I will go down on you too unless I burn my mouth on the pizza I was planning on having for dinner.
I would run away with you forever, but we have our lives to lead. You have your husband and children and doctors that are treating you for that massive head wound induced coma, and I am only the night orderly assigned to your floor.
Like Romeo and Juliet, we were star crossed lovers never meant to be.
Thomas is definitely in the lead for MOST PROLIFIC HORRIBLE POET.
thomas' second poem reminds me of that scene in Kill Bill I ... ooky ...
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