Mystery of the Zenhex, submitted by Chuck Norris. Internet poetry is so popular because anybody can write it; simply take all your thoughts, separate them into one-line sentences ending with commas, and upload them using Microsoft's EZ-Insta-Website 2004. That's it! You don't have enough ideas to write an entire paragraph or one coherent section of text? Simple: break it into lines and dub it "poetry!" Poetry is like the all-encompassing term "art," which describes anything ever made by anybody anywhere. Throw a cellphone into a pile of dogshit and, viola, art! Paint your face white and spend an hour banging forks against a wall and, surprise, art! The same applies to poetry: write nine sentences in all lowercase about being lonely and, hooray, it's poetry!
"The Mystery of the Zenhex" contains hundred, possibly thousands, of emo poems about being abandoned, abused, and using a chair. Click on any link and you'll end up on a page featuring poetry even worse than the last poem you read there, which is really quite amazing considering that... well... actually it's not amazing at all, just depressingly stupid.
I'm stomping in puddles
Your crying in the rain
I join the founding fathers
you sulk in all your bothers
I'm covered in clever clay
your devoured in an unyielding day
I'm not happy but have fun trying
you lye awake to know your dying
I'm stomping in puddles
your crying in the rain
I'm stomping in puddles:
splashing mud in the rain
feeling infinite letting go of pain
all worries stomped down the drain
leaving happiness and everything to gain
your crying in the rain:
rain heavier with ever pound
heave out a thunderous yelping sound
sink in muddy murk's to drown
leaving darkness never to be unbound
I'm stomping puddles
your cying in the rain
Thrill to the complete lack of spelling and grammar skills as the author, "emo to the skibbies," rambles on and on about his living hell of a life and nobody really cares in any conceivable way! Oh emo to the skibbies, will you ever find joy in this life?
Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic follow up to "Baby Got Back" has serious unintended consequences.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
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