There was a Nazi Sauer-Kraut
Who darted venon all about
A slimy reptile....alittle man
He slithered slovenly
And then he ran
His lifeless little puny Dink
Is all that Herbie had to Wink
His hate-filled mind in deep despair
Will slobber and slaver everywhere
His senseless verse
That didn't rymthm
Was worth not
One old rusty dime
So fate hath called
And then stepped in
To purge his soul
Of scum within
A language crude
Where he doth dwell
In flames of Scorching Searing Hell
The words he penned in Dung filled ink
Gave putrid pungent pubic stink
The dirty little Sauer-Kraut
Did scurry Dunger in and out
Bragging Zu Obel Deutschland Blut
A stupid slimy Smutzig Slut
A literal talent he did lack
With spineless words
Meant to attack
A poet came with thoughts so true
La` Sienne Cachee Mot De`RePugnance
Is what this Femelle feels for you
His scathing slapdash tongue will fill
A Furors meniacal hateful will
Stumm Alt Grausam Ubel Schlange
A poisoned bloody venomed fang
That No One on this site could stand
His bark was bigger then his bite
A Queerish Creature
In Pygmy height
His age he states is sixty three
With eyes so old he couldn't see
His hour has come of discontent
No sooner came and then it went
A putrid smell of Turkey-Cock
The rotting scent to Awe and Shock
His palsied hump in grief and pain
A coiling corpus to twist and strain
The Poet Hound is very right
Ein Dichter Herbie is quite a fright
The fetish foul in Necrophile
His chancre lesions in bloody bile
He wears his Gypsy Soul up tight
Like rancore mold in vectors mite
Forgiveness gone will not be his
A poets pen her surnane....'Bizz'
Je` Ne Sais Quoi` 'I Know Not What'
Will keep his Blasted Mouth Just Shut
A P. S Now Is Overdue
From this sophisticated........'Disgruntled Jew'
The Halocaust it isn't....... new! ! !
From Slizy Nazi's that look like....You
33 votes and still at 9.7 - Ms. Bizzari, have you struck a cord I wonder? Sx
Have not all of us at one time or another written a poem or two out of anger? That's what poetry is for. Poetry helps all of deal with things in our past, present, and future. We write our hopes, fears, happiness, and sadness in words, then when they are down in print we feel much better. If everyone would take their angry feelings, and turn them into poems it would make for great reading. Poetry is an outlet, so vent let it all hang out, and have fun.
I do think the name says it all. More bizarre weirdos. I did keep your wonderful posts and must say that I would know exactly what to do if I met the likes of you in person. H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
...but he's already used those too. Maybe he'll just be content to complain to management about the low level of discourse around here. Whoops, he's already done that too. Guess he'll just have to repeat himself for the umpteenth time. (yawn)