Time for Some More Bad Poetry!

I haven't done any for ages. Here is a good one:

Hotel Hilton

At the Hilton
businessmen end their dinner
with some choice Stilton
and the declaration of the winner
in their annual race
for the merchant with most money
and least grace.

For these men ethics
is a question of phonetics.
This is what the economy is built on.

A beauty, isn't it?

And this I really enjoyed making! It's a plot for a daytime soap and it's perfect as an example of bad poetry:


He came home in a fighting mood.
The day had been long, he was starving for
food.
But his wife, the slut, had scorched his steak.
Something snapped in his brain, he wanted to break
her neck.

Don't touch me, she cried,
shaking with fear.
Oh, honey, I tried,
and the children are here.
Don't hit me in front of them
please!
And she got down on her knees.

He felt suddenly shocked and sad.
Honey, I'm sorry, I must have been mad.
I'm so tired,
he said. Today I was fired.

She rose with a melting heart.
It is OK, she said, we'll make a new start.
Come here, poor thing, she said,
and I'll tuck you in our bed.

Don't touch me! he said,
shaking with fear.
Don't come near me,
he said, the children are here.
Don't paw me in front of them, whore.
And he walked out, slamming the door.

What do you think? Should I quit my day job? Heh.