And the Bad Poets

By Zachary D’mitri


not bad,

but uninspired,

write about

how we’re beautiful

because we’re all made of stars.

And I think,

you stone cold

fucking prodigy.

You marvel.

You bright, shining

son of a bitch.

Only a brilliant genius

could turn the stars ugly.




  1. I’m cackling! Viciously funny!
    Here’s my doggerel verse in reply:

    One star was overheard and said:
    “If we were Men we’d all be dead.”
    The second star, with empathy:
    “They’ve got us beat on Entropy.”
    The third star composed this line:
    “Even when dead, we all still shine.”

  2. Only wish I could be so bad. It is the haystack of bad poetry that makes the good poem needle shine so bright when and if ever found.

  3. I hate poetry with a passion. I don’t get it. I’ve never understood it. It sucks, and it makes no sense. Before anyone starts jumping on my case, let me say that I just had an epiphany. After I ran across this (and your other poetry) I realized that I don’t hate poetry after all. It’s that “haystack of bad poetry” that I’ve been trying to read my entire life that I don’t like. You’re poetry is so good that even I get it. It’s beautiful!

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