Bad Poetry!

Isn't a struggling writer's blog obligated to have on it some really bad poetry?  I think so.  Here's mine.  I wouldn't post it if I didn't think it was worth reading.  I laughed a lot writing it, and that's enough for me.  I think any poetry I ever write will end up just being Seussian story telling.  I got this idea from watching one of those TLC shows about "the most haunted places," and there was a ghost in a hotel that... turned on televisions.  I thought "how horrible would it be if I were a ghost, and all I could do was turn on a tv?"... and then I realized that rhymed, so I wrote poetry.  That was the extent of my muse's interplay on all of this.  Deep, right?

A Not-Particularly Scary Ghost Story

If I were a ghost, how sad would it be

If all I could do was turn on the tv?

My soulless body would undoubtedly scare

Enough to make the locals beware;

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

I would live in a big house, all caked in grime

I try moaning and groaning just to pass the time;

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

Queues set up, so windy and long,

And visitors pay just to hear my song;
But all I could do was turn on the tv.

“Where is screaming?” they bellow with rage,

“I want a ghost, a phantasm, a rattling cage!”

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

“That’s not a ghost,” the little boys grumble,

“That’s just bad wiring, a mistake, a fumble.”

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

A séance takes place inside the great hall,

Wishing and hoping I may answer the call,

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

So, I turn on the tv, and turn it up loud,

“That doesn’t count!” exclaims the belligerent crowd,

But all I could do was turn on the tv!

“Show us your power, oh harbinger of death,

“We await your sign with bated breath!”

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

“A sacrifice is needed!” a fat lady reports,

She's very scary: black lipstick and cargo shorts.

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

Pentagrams and sheep’s blood are strewn all around,

Then everyone sits, cross-legged, not making a sound.

…But all I could do was turn on the tv.

They all get up, eyes rolling, virulent and rude,

Saying that they don’t understand my attitude.

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

“I have an idea,” the woman says again,

“Toss the tv out!  That’s a fine place to begin!”

But all I could do was turn on the tv.

They toss it out with an old “heev-ho,”

I get very angry when I see the screen go,

Because all I could do was turn on the tv.

What happened next was quite the blur,

And why twenty corpses surrounding me? I’m not sure.

Because, after all, all I could do was turn on the tv.

The tv is back, and my soul is on the mend,

But now I have twenty of the worst kind of friend.

They shriek and holler, bang pipes and curse,

Loud, obnoxious, caustic, terse.

Oh, how I wish that they would just let me be,

Because, honestly, all I want to do is turn on the tv.

-Ken