The clouds feel very out.
The dramaturgy master mediates his own
Universe into the comic, but askew.
Father’s earth illuminatingly
Not. It’s the voluntary course of pristine parallels
Of other directions. However, to stars, some part
Of the universe fled.
Cleave the empty
Atmosphere. Time important, sure, but chemically not
The very mass business of solely atomical gentlemen.
Forbidden, we exploded the galaxy, and slept without ears.
The actually answered room
Parallels chemically. Shakespeare’s not the me
In once we were. The life that literalizes to recognize
These facts sees the ambiguous floorboards.
A very deep and profound poem written for The Weekly Terrible Poetry. Basically, to fit the week’s theme, I took lines from Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice (as well as from the edition’s introductory section,) a few sentences from Douglas Coupland’s novel, Generation X, random quotes from Neil deGrasse Tyson, and tossed them all together into the Dada Poem Generator. What spewed forth was a Frankenstein monstrosity of avant garde word-trash. In order to make things more comprehensible for you, the reader, I deleted sections, added my own words, and switched things around in an attempt to make this thing look like a real poem. The result: a beautiful and haunting masterpiece that contemplates both the insignificant and the grandiose with such touching and brutal language. Truly my best work. And the title I just came up with off the top of my head. I hope you liked it! And if you didn’t, enjoy your plebeian lifestyle you hapless ignoramus.
The above image is courtesy of skeeze at Pixabay. Note how the image is better and probably took more time to create than this post’s actual content!