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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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Spindrift
Spindrift
7 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
7 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
7 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
sunnysombrera
7 years ago

Motional leaves move while still.

Wat.

fruitloopsie
fruitloopsie
7 years ago

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

XD Thank you that made my day

sunnysombrera
sunnysombrera
7 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
Falconer
7 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
7 years ago

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

weirwoodtreehugger
7 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
7 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
Buttercup Q. Skullpants
7 years ago

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
7 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
7 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
7 years ago

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

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

Binjabreel
Binjabreel
7 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
7 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
7 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
7 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
7 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
7 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
7 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
7 years ago

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

Lordcrowstaff
Lordcrowstaff
7 years ago

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

Moggie
Moggie
7 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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