Losers Win! 

The Indy's first-ever Bad Poetry Contest brings out the worst.

Judged by Noel Black

Every loser's a winner when the poetry's bad
For there is no "good" poetry to inform you I'm sad.

Some sucked worse than others, but all were quite crappy
Whether clever or stupid or boring or sappy

From dongs to Juans to roses red
To chopsticks, butts and living dead

These poems all suck in their own special ways
And for this we give them crappy praise!

The soul's deeper matters? Yeah, whatever.
The only rules were: the crappier, the better.

The prizes: Duh! What could be worse
Than a totally useless Independent T-shirt.

--Noel Black

Editors note: Welcome to the Independents first-ever bad poetry contest. When we put the call out for entries, we knew wed get some doozies. But we didnt image just how bad they could be. With more than 60 entries, the worst of the worst appear on this and following pages. First-place losers win an Independent T-shirt, which should be picked up by the end of September at our office at 121 E. Pikes Peak, Suite 455. (Second- and third-place losing entries are identified on the following pages as "Dishonorable Mention" and "Pathetic Place.")

In upcoming weeks we will be sponsoring a Bad Poetry reading, time and place to be announced.

Read on at your own peril.

Walt Whitman's Armpit Award (Grand Prize)

Juan or the Other

A woman once gave birth to twins;
A tragic story thus begins.
She gave them both up for adoption;
In tears she had no other option.

One went to Egypt, still quite small,
And there received the name, Amahl;
The other boy to Spain had gone
Where he was duly christened Juan.

Years later Juan his picture sent
To his birth mother for comment;
When she beheld it, wept the mother,
"O how I long to see his brother!"

Her husband, bothered by her dolor,
Attempted lightly to console her;
"They're twins, my dear, you must recall;
If you've seen Juan, you've seen Amhal."

-- John Baker

The Long Dong Silver Medal Award

The Long Dong

Wondering when it would end ...
I lay in my bed ...
"That's such a long dong!" to myself I said.
Tick, tick, ding dong...
At midnight, twelve dong's long.
"Should I throw a book or a shoe?"
Instead my pillow ... away it flew.
Ding, dong ...
Dong, dong ...
Chimed the clock with its wretched song.
Such a loud ding, and such a loud dong ...
The dinging and the donging ...
They could hear in Hong Kong.
Tick, tick ...
Dong, dong ...
"What a stupid clock with such a long dong!"
Next day ...
Ding, Dong, Bing, Bong ...
"Here's a gift to you Mr. Wong Fong."
"It's a beautiful clock, with a beautiful song."
Tick, tick ...
Dong, dong ...
Went the clock with the long dong ...
Is now dinging at Mr. Fong's.

-- Jasspur

You Missed Your Calling at Hallmark Award

I've seen rosebuds
But I have seen your lips

I've seen sunrise
But I have seen your smile

I have seen the star-skies
But then, I've seen your eyes

Heard the children laughing
But longed to hear your sighs

I've seen the brightest heaven
In dreams that come and flee

But I have seen the best of all
Darling, I see thee

-- Michael Dicino

You Missed Your Calling at Hallmark Award, Dishonorable Mention

A Valentine Poem

Be still my foolish heart.
This is no way to start.
You've been around too long
to trust an urge this strong.
Your heart skipping a beat.
The slight lilt in your feet.
Sleepless nights lost in the fun
of fantasizing about your loved one.
Those romance novels I despise
Now seem to come alive.
It's embarrassing to feel
like a page from Danielle Steel.
Alas, I am powerless against this passion.
Common sense falls prey to this cunning assassin.
All thoughts end up on the object of my love.
Our lives fit together like a hand in a glove.
What is this explanation
for this infatuation?
The source of this ecstasy?
Wellspring of this bad poetry?
Well, I've fallen in love
... with me.

-- DeAnn Hiatt-Green

You Missed Your Calling at Hallmark Award, Pathetic Place


We met that night
Two birds of a feather.
And immediately knew
We belonged together.
Her heartwrenching story
Was a tale of woe
That left her unable

To tell friend from foe.
Yet those windows to her soul,
So incredibly blue.
So hopeful, so caring;
Put my defenses askew.

Little by little
The walls were torn down.
Our past revealed,
Our futures bound.
How I loved that woman!
So talented and bright.
Yet so fragile and wounded.
I was the white knight.
And she said loved me!
"Her hero," she said.
Our souls intertwined.
We were to be wed.

Yet heroes are men,
Sometimes village fools, too.
As time passed by,
Insecurities grew.
Unfounded doubt came
And distrust soon followed.
Ultimately was revealed
Two hearts too hollowed.
It began slipping away
The magic to illusion.
Love, faith, hope and trust
Fermented to confusion.

Ghosts from the past
Hunted us down.
Betrayal committed?
Love's heartstrings unwound.
Nights filled by anguish.
Where once passion filled.
All dreams for the future,
Immediately stilled.
Now just two more names,
To add to the list
Of the frailty of love,
And happiness missed.

--Scott Jeffrey Simpson

Translation from the Kung Fu Award


Welcome to Chinese Restaurant
Please try your Nice Chinese Food With Chopsticks
the traditional and typical of Chinese glonous history
And cultual


Tuk under thumb and held firmly

Add second chcostick
Hold it as you hold a pencil

Hold tirst chopstick
In original position
Move the second
One up and down

Now you can pick up anything

Sir Alistair Digby-Vane Trumpington

Translation from the Kung Fu Award, Dishonorable Mention

Object of My Affection

Me Love, him flew
Him did I dirt
Me did not know
Him were a flirt.

Darn he, me hate he,
Me wish him were died
Him told me him loved me
Darn he, him lied.

To they in love,
May me forbid
Lest they get dood
Like me got did.

--Fran Johnson

Allen Ginsburger Spoken Turd Award

Bottom Feeder

You're good to go with Conoco
Do you sport an Afro?
I have great personal belief
External anal itch relief
What is your disease?
Nyquil will help you get your Z's
Smoke any Tea?
Are you drug Free?
Someone will check your Pee
Wee! Wee!! I'm Free!
Always Wal-Mart Always
Drive with Texaco
Let's go to the Gulf of Mexico
We'll get high on helium
Light up on Valium
Be like Cocaine
Going down the drain
So check your meter
And take me to your leader
Bottom feeder

-- Brenan Searain

Loku Award

Haiku Series

The beef hunk simmers
In its own juices
Evening in Japan

Thirty gyoza gone
Small hand in big mouth on bet
Such great leadership
Warm and golden buns
Pleasing to the eye and mouth
Plastic trays and tongs

Oh! Grilled cheese sandwich
Thou art piping hot and good
Such deliciousness

-- Malia Cordel

Loku Award, Dishonorable Mention

happy birthday you
the call was truly random
some say meant to be ...

my turn really hurts
perhaps from the meat and beer
ahhhh, the joy of farts

some gin and tonics
my head is heavy for nap
no restraint when free

with barely a wink
the thesis is history
I am done done done

the branches stretch out
further than they ever have
and cry with green leafs

growth growth growth growth growth
growth growth growth growth growth growth growth
growth growth growth growth growth

waiting and longing
release that allows for time
only the lonely

--Emily M. Irwin

The Emily Dickinson Wait a Minute, Isn't That "Good"? Award

The mountains kidnapped the clouds
and held them
a most handsome ransom
it stopped my staccato pulse mid-beat
to welcome back the flowing, and i, all
The while, am knowing
the sun is on the other side
eating out another tide
(leaving sloppy seconds to the moon)
he's mashing the play-doh sky
into second hand hues for all the rooms with views to use.
-- Jessica Lindberg

Rhymes with "Crap" Award

So, you thought,
no word rhymes with "kumquat."
A book, I bought,
then more words were sought.
No school has taught,
no slumber on a cot,
this quest I fear not.
My mind didn't rot, seeking the why, when and what,
for words that rhyme with kumquat!

John Skinner

Rhymes with "Crap" Award, Dishonorable Mention

I can tell by yer smell
that yer swell
what the hell

--Scott Knudsen

Rhymes with "Crap" Award, Pathetic Place

No Poem

Thought rot
on the spot

paper poisons muse
Make hearts sink

emotions love abuse

no rhyme
act sublime
what the hell's the use.

-- Atomic Elroy

The Bodily Function Award

Stinky Butt

Stinky butt
stinky butt
my husbands got a stinky butt.
Feed him
and see
the need to be free
and breathe
from his stinky butt.

-- Kelli Schulz

The Bodily Function Award, Dishonorable Mention

She Said It Was My Farting

She said it was my farting
That made her distant
I'd believed it was my forgetfulness

She said it was my farting
That drove her away
It could have been my jealousies

She said it was my farting
That made her stop calling
I'd assumed it was my pettiness

She said it was my farting
That made her return my mail
I' knew it was my lack of wealth

She said it was my farting
That made her call the cops
Perhaps it was my obsessiveness

She said it was my farting
That made her move to another town
It may have been my psychopathic tendencies

She said it was my farting
That killed her dog
But sure it was something it had eaten

I said it was my farting
That set her house ablaze
But it must have been the dynamite

She said it was my farting

--Stephen Quigley

Clich Isn't a Place in France Award

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I like peanut butter
Can you ride a bicycle?

Scott Myers

Clich Isn't a Place in France Award, Dishonorable Mention

To An Artist

Lately when we walked along the Seine
We sensed the left bank's magic spell
Felt shadows of old France and Spain
(Shadows brought to life again
where tragic figures rose and fell.)

But now, today, there's nothing there
Nothing where we thought
Brave figures laughed, loved and fought.

No shadows now ... and perhaps none then
Save those summoned through low chimney smoke
And gentle rain

When we walked again along the Seine.

--Chuck Emery

Gratuitous Mention of the Independent Award

As I was walking
I was talking
As I was listening
I heard a hissing,

As I turn around
with a frown
and just then I was knocked
down, why because
some one too was in a hurry
to pick the Independent,
At eleven.

-- Maria Zolna

Plagiarized From Edgar Allen Poe's Junior High School Diary Award

I only come out at night

I sleep all through the daytime
I only come out at night
I'm dressed to kill when I go out
I'm ready for a bite
I'm hungry for a tasty treat
So tender and so fresh
I'll sink my teeth into your meat
I love that virgin flesh
I spread my wings when I rise
I'm ready to take a flight
Others eyes are open wide
I'm really quite a sight
Should I spare you maybe not
We'll have to wait and see
The odds are stacked against you though
You look like lunch to me

-- Bill Womack

The "Huh?" Award

Troubles Down Under

There once lived a family who lived under the sea.
There Bazoub, Rafoolin, and of course, there was me.
Every day we would talk about who would cook the next meal,
And the food would always end up bright teal.
When we ate the food, we would talk some more.
About mermaid's and fishies and all of water galore.
We enjoyed these evenings, all three of us did.
But there were times when I just needed to be a kid.
When I said this they made fun of me and giggled.
So all night in my bed, I thought and I wiggled.
Then I came up with a marvelous plan.
I went up to them and told them and they were a big fan.
Now in the mornings, I go out with my friends.
And then we talk about how perfect our life mends.

-- Salma Saeedi

The "Huh?" Award, Dishonorable Mention


A pseudomoid
has the poise and charm
Of an extramullite
with a withered arm

-- T.J. Conway

Yeah, That's Real Nice, But Could You Go Ahead and Shut It! Award

So, there you are
Sitting in your office, car,
coffee shop, or home,
Reading The Independent and my really bad poem,
And thinking just who the heck does she think she is?
What a ditz!
Writing a poem about the meaning of life ...
When everyone know that need a PH.D, a theology degree
or at least on of those certificate of completement forms
for a seminar on angst, spirituality, The Road Less Traveled
true love, good yoga form, endless joy or endless strife.
And I admit I have none of those,
But I'm close.
Cuz I grew up on the South Side of Chicago, and lived to tell the tale;
And I went to Catholic schools, so I know about sin and guilt,
taught to me by Dominican nuns who can throw a huge text
book or some other deadly object at you from 50 yards and
always hit your head, never fail.
Which means I know about physical pain,
And I know about love and loss, and don't even get me started
about what jerks men can be, don't get me waling down that
memory lane.
But I did fall in love, and Focus on the Family will be happy to know
That I've been married for 15 years to the same guy and still love
him so.
In the career area, It trusted someone who then put several
knives in my back and hurt my feelings too;
And she doesn't feel bad at all, not one bit, but what can I do?
So now that you know my life experience and hence my qualifications
Of why I know the meaning of life, I'm sure you have no reservations.
THE MEANING OF LIFE IS: oh sure, you think you know what I'm
going to say
You're thinking I'm going to talk about love, and A Higher Power, and
God bless the USA,
and hate is not the way,
and you need to take it day by day,
but those are all cliches.
The meaning of life is (Listen up, this is it) giving more than you got
And doing it by little things, not by winning the lot-
Tery and given a bunch of money to some charity.
Let me give my philosophy some clarity:
The meaning of life is letting another car in front of you, and bear in
It counts more when it is a really long line.
It is telling your kid you love him at the precise minute he is rolling his
eyes with his hip stuck out and sassing you back.
It is seeing one of those "I Work for Food" people and buying her a
Big Mac,
And it is writing a letter to the editor on something you care about,
It is cutting back on water use because there's a big drought,
It is stopping to help the old lady whose car broke down at the side
of the road even though you're late for work
And you'll get in trouble cuz your boss is a jerk;
It is sending a friend a real card (not just email)
To say how when it comes to friendship, theirs is equivalent to the
Holy Grail!
That's the meaning of life, at least for me, that's what I say,
Doing joyful, giving things each and every day;
And while you're all being giving, and thoughtful and nice
could someone nominate this poem for the Pulitzer prize?
-- Phyllis McNaughton


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