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I thought that I would never see / A PUA write poetry. But then I did and holy crap it's awful.

Hmm. What rhymes with "hypergamous western sluts?"
Hmm. What rhymes with “I’m an insufferable douchebag?”

I interrupt this blog for a moment for some breaking news: Pickup Artists have started writing poetry.

And it’s glorious. By which I mean, of course, that it’s gloriously awful.

Yesterday, while poking around the internet in my usual manner, I ran across an amazing little discussion on MPUAForum.com, an online hangout for PUAs who have for some reason added an M to their usual acronym.

A PUA going by the name bob2 announced to his Comrades in Sarging that he was planning on starting a “a pickup poetry blog.” That is, a blog providing PUA wisdom to the Average Frustrated Chumps of the world in the form of little poems. As he explained:

In pickup, especially in natural game you need to really GET a few key ideas. Therefore poetry is the tool of choice. Whereas a post or an ebook “gestures” at ideas, poetry is tough and precise, it really gets the point across.

There was just one teeeeensy little roadblock with this plan: It would involve actually writing poems, and, as bob2 admitted plainly, he’s “no writer.”

Unwilling to let the fact that he can’t write get in the way of writing a blog, our hero asked the assembled masses for submissions.

And they delivered. They delivered some of the worst poems ever written by sentient beings.

“I love rhyming words to express feelings,” a fellow calling himself Pickup Truck announced happily. He celebrated this love of rhyme with a poem in which, er, nothing actually rhymed.  These two stanzas will give you some idea of his intriguing sense of rhyme. And also what an insufferable ass he is.

I’ve been here a thousand times before and learnt it,
Her beauty is present, but her personality is transparent,
She may be hot but what if she’s also a bitch and unpleasant?
The challenge excites me, the prospect excites her,

She knows tonight’s going to be different,
Her daily routine will not be the same, I stroll over,
Her heart races, she turns to jelly when I smile,
Place my hand on her shoulder and ask “hey, whats your name?”

In the first, Mr, Truck at least made vague gestures towards the notion of rhyme; the second abandoned rhyme altogether.

Also, “hey what’s your name?” What the hell kind of opener is that? Shouldn’t he be negging her a little bit, dropping in a “nice nails, are they real?” or “one of your boobs is definitely bigger than the other one” or “are you a model, like, a 1/32 scale model of a Krupp Sd.Kfz.121 Panzer II F tank?”

Actually, I’m not completely sure I understand negs myself.

A commenter called Ezo came a little bit closer to the goal of writing a poem that rhymes. But he seemed unaware that words that are spelled similarly do not always sound alike.

When you start getting the point of the Game.
Your life will not ever give you the same.
Tired of pondering words that she said.
When she just told you that youre not getting laid.

So close!

Dziah, perhaps noticing the troubles his comrades were having with rhyme and meter, went with free verse. Very free verse. Verse so free that it probably should have been repressed a little by the authorities.

I gazed at a rose,
Cast away into the eye.
Motional leaves move while still.

This inhibited instant,
Reality impedes.
Trance just dismissed.

The elegant red of the pedal‘s tips,
The saccharine essence.
Thorns now pierce my flesh.

Uh, pretty sure you meant “petals,” dude. Flowers have petals. Bikes have pedals. Petaluma is a city in California.

Those roses that dispute the most anguish,
Contain the most eccentric adventures.
These strange saga’s father the Magnificent.

If any of you can discern any possible meanings hiding in this word salad, let me know. I’m stumped.

Bob2 offered a couple of sample poems of his own. One even managed to work in the words “becometh” and “womanhood” — in the same line!

she becometh her womanhood
feels your calm
the easygoing King,
unapologetic, calm

Err, dude, it’s sort of cheating to rhyme “calm” with “calm,” given that they’re THE SAME WORD.

But the conclusion of his poem was so truly beautiful it brought a wettening to my pants.

she wettens, she laughs
her pupils dilate
she can hardly believe it
she’s getting ready to mate.

for you are Zeus,
manhood incarnate
and she a common beauty
yours with which to masturbate.

Wait, what?

Look, fellas, I realize that most of your trips to the club end with you back at home alone, masturbating forlornly into the bathroom sink with the memory of some women you tried to hit on floating around in your head. But you’re not supposed to admit this out loud. It kind of ruins the PUA mystique.

EDIT: Removed a link to a video; I hadn’t realized that it had some awful stuff in it.

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anemonerosie
6 years ago

“Those roses that dispute the most anguish,
Contain the most eccentric adventures.
These strange saga’s father the Magnificent.”

I’m pretty sure he’s saying “flowers are agonizing, but choosing them reminds me of some wild times. And our poems are telling great things!” So if we read between the lines the poems are telling us about some wild times. Some of which have resulted in the PUA getting a little to picked-up and needing to buy flowers for the woman that he can’t get rid of?

I might be reading too much into this. I’m tired.

Robert
Robert
6 years ago

Wait – we don’t have sexbots yet, but we have poetry-writing robots*?

Those are (allegedly) written by *human beings?!* God’s little fish in trousers.

*To quote Morrissey, “Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I never knew you wrote such BLOODY AWFUL poetry.”

dphk
6 years ago

what rhymes with “fedora”?

Fatman
Fatman
6 years ago

Ooh, I have one.

Ah freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer.
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don’t.

Mewens
Mewens
6 years ago

“poetry is tough and precise”

“poetry is tough and precise”

Do you think this’ll be less amusing the third time?

“poetry is tough and precise”

Newp, still hilarious.

Ellesar
6 years ago

Oh no, I think you will find that the very worst poetry is this:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay. They rotted. They turned
Around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from
Time to time.
And sank into the pool’s mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings was a poet who wrote the worst poetry in the universe. In fact, her poetry is still considered to be the worst in the Galaxy, closely followed by that of the Azgoths of Kria and the Vogons.

She lived at 37 Wasp Villas, Greenbridge, Essex, GB10 1LL.[2]

Sarah
Sarah
6 years ago

That hurts in the brain.

Vanir (@Vanir85)
6 years ago

for you are Zeus,
manhood incarnate
and she a common beauty
yours with which to masturbate.

Wow. In a way, this poem IS effective – ’cause here it is: Everything you need to know about these people. Both their view of themselves, and their view of women – in four lines. They, the men are awesome and unique beyond this world, while women are lower, common things, only good for how they can please men.

Spindrift
Spindrift
6 years ago

Quoth the raven, “Neg her more”.

By Edgar Allan Pua

Spindrift
Spindrift
6 years ago

“for you are Zeus,
manhood incarnate
and she a common beauty
yours with which to masturbate.”

I think the important question here is wether or not Zeus got laid in Norway.
Also, well done, comparing yourself to a famous mythological rapist.

contrapangloss
6 years ago

… I’m an awful poet, but my awfulness has been exceeded spectacularly. Great job, dudes.

I salute you with some slightly less awful poetry of my own:

Once upon a midday bright
I looked online and saw a sight!
A legion of poets of such sad disgrace
— I could not even turn my face! —
To look away from such sad rhymes,
For, alas, they were but crimes!
Indeed those that claimed to have a rhyme
Had less rhyme than shouts a mime!

The ones that indeed denied to rhyme
And said that free in verse they were, were not,
Or rather
So free in verse
That form they found in formlessness, choosing to keep all lines
so similar in length
so similar in feel
that although they were free, they were bound in their own sadness and
solitude the poems so foul
not even a denizen of Vogsphere
could tolerate them.

For despite the desires of their composers
Who, all for naught, are but poseurs
These poems hardly a pickup could make
Except as perhaps an emergency brake

Joven
Joven
6 years ago

Kinda reminds me of a blog I used to read by an English professor that used to get poetry from Stormfront’s message boards and grade it. Oh in case you were wondering, there’s poetry on Stormfront’s message boards too.

When you start getting the point of the Game.
Your life will not ever give you the same.

Also, the consequences with never be the same. Hey, look, I rhymed!

Viscaria
Viscaria
6 years ago

It’s rare that a PUAs will explicitly state that they view partnered sex with women as masturbation with a particularly good toy. Am I allowed to quote this at the next fella who disingenuously claims that PUA is all about “shy guys developing confidence”?

fruitloopsie
fruitloopsie
6 years ago

Oh sweet Celestia why did I read all these poems? I’m gonna to read much more enjoyable poems.

https://www.earlymoments.com/dr-seuss/favorite-dr-seuss-quotes/

fruitloopsie
fruitloopsie
6 years ago

Spindrift

“Also, well done, comparing yourself to a famous mythological rapist.”

And the one who married, had sex and raped his sister

Fibinachi
6 years ago

twitch

You call that drek the written word
That’s absurd!
Saccharine essence?
Saccharine senescence, this PuA malarky eats grammar, lives
and innocence

You profess and grandstand
clap your clammy hands
talk about your clammy wands
(Frankly your words are pretty hammy, man)

Adventures might be magnificent
yet if every effort bent
towards your intent
of getting spent
requires such an investment
that’s not an argument, it doesn’t augment your lifestyle
it makes me question your life, revile
the little words that march in file
‘Cause you don’t beguile
“Becometh?”
That’s vile
Neither witty or versatile

Dilate, mate, masturbate?
Yeah well
prate, predate, overrate.

Jenny (@dontgiveah00t)

I’m so glad I’m not the only one who thought of the Vogon poetry. And Spindrift – LOL!

As for the bit about her being a ‘common beauty’ to ‘masturbate with’ – I think they’re saying that they’re gods and thus they can obvioulsy fuck her however they please, with no considerations to her pleasure. She’s merely a tool for them to essentially masturbate with – a warm, breathing sex toy.

porree
6 years ago

“She may be hot but what if she’s also a bitch and unpleasant? ”
The tough questions.
Pretty sure that’s what’s been on Hamlet’s mind when he mumbled his far less eloquent “To be or not to be”.

fruitloopsie
fruitloopsie
6 years ago

contrapangloss
Much better than I or any pua could come up with.

Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby III
Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby III
6 years ago

They’re not alone! Here’s a poem from Wordsworth’s little know PUA phase:

I wandered lonely as a cock,
That tries his game through clubs and dens,
When all at once I saw a flock,
A host, of golden HB10s;
Upon the floor, beneath the strobes,
I oogled thence their fleshly globes

As sensual as the babes that thrive
And offer many saucy looks,
In many files on my hard drive,
And in my pile of dirty books
A dozen saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

And I beside them danced; but they
Ignored my peacock hat and hose,
A poet might as well but be gay,
For all the good ’twas done by those:
I tried to kino — tried to neg
Towards the end I tried to beg

But oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude
I like to touch —
[ remainder of manuscript is unreadable]

Amanda
Amanda
6 years ago

This is up there with James McIntyre in bad. You know the Victorian poet aka the Chaucer of Cheese. Example: Ode on the Mammoth Cheese.

We have seen the Queen of cheese,
Laying quietly at your ease,
Gently fanned by evening breeze —
Thy fair form no flies dare seize.

All gaily dressed soon you’ll go
To the great Provincial Show,
To be admired by many a beau
In the city of Toronto.

Cows numerous as a swarm of bees —
Or as the leaves upon the trees —
It did require to make thee please,
And stand unrivalled Queen of Cheese.

May you not receive a scar as
We have heard that Mr. Harris
Intends to send you off as far as
The great World’s show at Paris.

Of the youth — beware of these —
For some of them might rudely squeeze
And bite your cheek; then songs or glees
We could not sing o’ Queen of Cheese.

We’rt thou suspended from baloon,
You’d cast a shade, even at noon;
Folks would think it was the moon
About to fall and crush them soon.

Tulgey Logger
Tulgey Logger
6 years ago

I Just Sort Of Kept Writing Stanzas; A PUA Poem

I am a gentle le sir,
with the world at my call.
My pen can cause a stir
among feminazis, y’all.

The Feeeemale is a mystery
I have solved with wit and charm.
I have made such an enquiry
and escaped without (much) harm.

First there is the Neg, simple and pristine;
you pretend to give a compliment
but you’re just being mean.

At this point you’ll get i-o-i,
or perhaps just rejection.
She’ll look you up or leave you out;
but gents, please hide your erection.

Second is the kino play, a true PUA classic.
Touch the lady’s hair or elbow;
she’ll be beastly like the Jurassic.

At this point you may wish to “close,”
but have patience yet.
If your outfit’s not disposed
like some weird jester, you won’t be met.

Peacocking is the only art
a man must truly master.
Well, that and the bait-and-switch;
to fail is to employ disaster.

At this point you may be thinking:
“Is this really worth the hassle?
With what I spend on hats and drinking
I could purchase a small castle.”

But that’s just your beta-mind,
your id, your foolish will;
all doubts will be washed away
when you swallow the Red Pill.

You’ll enter a great new land
of eternal bio-truths,
where a man can be a man
and a rabbit, a sabretooth.

You’ll bend the world to your pleasure,
penetrate the mysteries of time.
Five fathoms your dick will measure,
once you wash off all your grime.

Fibinachi
6 years ago

Sir Bodsworth, that was wonderful. Thank you.

Robert
Robert
6 years ago

Oh, this is all glorious. Sir Bodsworth, that was a splendid travesty. Amanda, somehow I had lived this long without having read that poem. My thanks for rectifying this lamentable state of affairs. I own a much-read copy of “The Stuffed Owl”, a compendium of the very best Bad Verse – that’s how much I enjoy deliciously bad* poetry.

*Leonard Pinth-Garnell voice.

Fibinachi
6 years ago

Yeah, I think as former poet laurate of We Hunted The Mammoth I’m going to abdicate my post in favour of these new talents.

Spindrift
Spindrift
6 years ago

I guess this explains that creepy sage gerard guy isolating that woman at the avfm conference to write a poem. The poem part sounded weird and random to me before, but this clarifies things.

Lady Mondegreen
6 years ago

Her beauty is present, but her personality is transparent,
She may be hot but what if she’s also a bitch and unpleasant?

OK, class. What does “her personality is transparent” mean here?

I take it to mean, “I can see through her.” As in, “I know what her personality is like.”

Why, then, ask, in the very next line, “what if she’s…a bitch and unpleasant”? If her personality is “transparent,” YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT SHE’S LIKE, PERCY BYSSHE.

Jeezus.

Also,

for you are Zeus,
manhood incarnate

Seriously, dood?

I wonder how many of these dumbasses are clinical Narcissists. I really do.

Paradoxical Intention
6 years ago

for you are Zeus,
manhood incarnate

Yeah, because a guy that would dry hump any living creature is totally what you little lollipops triple-dipped in Roosh’s unwashed asshole sound like.

http://clever-bitch.blogspot.com/2010/03/5-ways-that-zeus-raped-his-way-to-glory.html

TW for rape, obviously.

epitome of incomprehensibility

“Motional leaves move while still” is redundant AND a paradox, which I guess is impressive. You’ve gotta love those moving leaves that move while not moving. It moves my immobile heart, movingly.

Sir Bodsworth Ruggleby III: you, sir, made me smile. I memorized Wordsworth’s lesser, flower-related version of that poem for a class. Besides, HB10 makes me think of sketching pencils. Which are fairly simple to pick up, really.

Anyway… I am new at commenting, so hello! My feminist friend Katie says Shut Up, Woody (capitalized just like that – she’s evil that way.)

sunnysombrera
6 years ago

Motional leaves move while still.

Wat.

fruitloopsie
fruitloopsie
6 years ago

Paradoxical Intention
“you little lollipops triple-dipped in Roosh’s unwashed asshole sound like.”

XD Thank you that made my day

sunnysombrera
6 years ago

All this parody poetry makes me want to re-post the Let It Bro lyrics (Let it Go MGTOW style) I wrote out a few posts ago. I believe it was the Ghostbusters one? I know it’s a bit of a creative faux paus to repeat your own work and the theme is PUA not MGTOW but would anyone mind? They took me ages to write out and I’m damn proud of those lyrics.

Falconer
6 years ago

This is just to say

I have read all
the verse
we found on
your website

and which
you obviously
thought were
well written

You can’t write
they were risible
so bad
and so odd.

Paradoxical Intention
6 years ago

I’m gonna need to go get my Shel Silverstein books out. And my Edward Gorey.

weirwoodtreehugger
6 years ago

My heart expands.
It has grown a bulge in it.
Inspired by your beauty, efulgent.

When your poetry is much, much worse than that of William the Bloody, so named because of his bloody awful poetry, you know you need some remedial writing classes.

dashapants
dashapants
6 years ago

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… I’m sorry… I can’t even… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Men pontificate
Did Roosh get laid in Norway?
Tis the sound of one hand fapping

Buttercup Q. Skullpants

Tears of laughter. Tears. You all are killing me.

Ahem. Bongos, please…

*wop wap bonk*

A C&F AMOG in the SMP
Got an ISI from an SHB
So he tried KAMI MCR while DHV
She gave him DDBL, LMR and ASD
He didn’t get a #close, he’s just an AFC
BBQ PDQ LMNOP

…that last line doesn’t have an ending couplet because it’s Going Its Own Way and doesn’t need to pair with any other lines, which are stupid bitches anyway.

yamamanama
yamamanama
6 years ago

And now: Ode To A Small Lump Of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning.

Putty. Putty. Putty.
Green Putty – Grutty Peen.
Grarmpitutty – Morning!
Pridsummer – Grorning Utty!
Discovery….. Oh.
Putty?….. Armpit?
Armpit….. Putty.
Not even a particularly
Nice shade of green.
As I lick my armpit and shall agree,
That this putty is very well green.

suffrajitsu
suffrajitsu
6 years ago

“I thought that I would never see/a PUA write poetry.”
You haven’t. Zing!

William McGonagall, anyone?
“Beautiful” “poetry” of the PUA
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That all the women have been scared away
That you actually wrote, “She turns to jelly when I smile”,
Which will leave you un-laid for a very long time.

cretaceouskitteh78
cretaceouskitteh78
6 years ago

Hold on just a minute while I process this………………………..

AHHHH HAAAA HAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAA!!!

Binjabreel
6 years ago

One thing I was sad that Douglas Adams never built upon, was the idea that humans could write and endure poetry of a vastly more nightmarish quality than the Vogons could ever dream.

cretaceouskitteh78
cretaceouskitteh78
6 years ago

Male Tears–A Limerick

Once there was a man from The Net
Poor chap just couldn’t get the ladies wet
So he tried PUA
But went His Own Way
And no one’s remembered to miss him yet!

Amanda
Amanda
6 years ago

Yeah I was torn between James McIntyre and McGonagall, but McIntyre just has the best subject matter. Seriously look up all his poems. Going to get a laugh at dinner.

suffrajitsu
suffrajitsu
6 years ago

@Amanda: I went with McGonagall because of his unique knack for butchering language, but yes, the “Cheese Poet” absolutely wins at subject matter.

Then there’s Amanda McKittrick Ros, more notorious for her novels, but her poetry is something to behold in its own right:

“Visiting a PUA”:

Holy Ayn Rand! Have a look!
Flesh decayed in every nook!
Some rare bits of brain n’er here,
Bags of Doritos and beer,
Unwiped asses covered with dust,
Every one bids lost to lust;
Lonely balls so tinged with ‘blue’
Because women won’t fuck you.

Bina
Bina
6 years ago

A pickup artist named Sleaze
Tried his hand at some grand poetries.
He read it, and leered,
But the ladies all sneered,
And pushed him off with a “Bysshe, PLEASE!”

kirbywarp
kirbywarp
6 years ago

Wow. It’s stuff like this that sometimes makes me want to step in and do things right for them. Like, I’ll make a mysoginistic and terrible, but halfway decent, poem for you just so you’ll stop embarassing yourself.

Then I think about it for a half second, and go back to enjoying the parodies.

kirbywarp
kirbywarp
6 years ago

The rose one is just about seeing a real-life vagina, right? Petal tips and saccharine essences and all that? Pretty sure the poem is just “I met a hot chick then did the sex with her” that is coda’d by this weird little “sex with a vagina feels good but I really hate the thing attached to it, so therefore it’s all mysterious and darkity deep and stuffs.”

kobun37
kobun37
6 years ago

A trifecta of terrible. Terrible prose on a terrible subject written by terrible people.

Lordcrowstaff
Lordcrowstaff
6 years ago

Roses are red,
my semen is gold,
I’m sad that women
don’t do what they’re told

Moggie
Moggie
6 years ago

for you are Zeus,
manhood incarnate
and she a common beauty
yours with which to masturbate.

You know how people say you shouldn’t put a woman on a pedestal? That’s not so that you can climb up there yourself.

bob2’s request was for poems as a teaching or memory aid. Unless any of these contain mnemonics (which I suppose would help explain why they’re so bad), I don’t see what pedagogic purpose they serve. Pretty sure these guys don’t need an aide-memoire for you’re a god, and she’s just a collection of holes.

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