grieving over a
grave in a
grove when
Grendel and
Gargamel and
Gannon sicced a
gargoyle on my

G, I said
Get thee gone
Go, dog, go, already
I don't like your
green eggs, your
green arrows, your
green lanterns, your
green screen, your
green teeth, your
greedy eyes

Ignored Love

I warbled my love for you like a lovesick sparrow
And beat my chest like the gorilla in your king kong movie
But you ignored me as my heart spilled blood like the weeping of cupid
When his arrow goes astray

Oh love oh love, why have you dealt me such a raw deal
I would wriggle through mud like a crocodile for you
I would spout your praises like an overripe volcano
And I would be Cupid’s arrow if I could seek out your heart and spear it

Oh love let me wound you with my love

The Lunch Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

"I'm mystified by you," I said
"your extra arms, your extra head.
what kind of life must your kind lead;
what kind of thing on which you feed?"

"We're not that different," he said.
"We like your cheese and beer and bread.
We like your meat," he then confessed.
"We like it very simply dressed—
dressed in a suit or in the nude."

"I don't approve this choice of food,"
I said, "I don't look good upon a plate.
It would be such a big mistake
To think I'd simply acquiesce
to bathe in pesto, romanes-
co, or some stew. No sauce for me!
Though you look quite rotisserie."

"We're in dispute," he mused out loud.
"A compromise would do us proud."

"All right," I said. "What should we share?"

"We'll give up what we have to spare."

"That's fair enough, I guess," I said,
"You'll eat my hand, I'll eat your head."

Which demonstrates consensus-ship,
But doesn't say who leaves the tip.

winged fEET

the lETters are screaming
into the opulent mirror HUSH--
wait for the vampire tread of tiny wings
on the purplish mounds of corn


capitalisation beyond control
no more planets exploding into lust in the radiant mews of
painting its deathlike pallor

on the fish we all need
to be free

CZP's Shitty Poetry Month Week 1 Winner

The winner of of Shitty Poetry Month week 1 is Dominik Parisien's "In All Her Quiet Dignity She Rides." Congratulations, Dominick! Your poem will move on to the shitty poetry finals!

Stay tuned tonight for week 2's shitty poems, which will be up on at 6pm EST along with our poll, so don't forget to vote for the poem you think is the shittiest poem of this week!

On the Death of a Tim’rous Beastie

With apologies to Robbie Burns
(to be read with a bad Scottish accent)

Oh, that I should be so skilled
As he who so routinely killed,
And left upon the floor that blood.
Blood on the chair,
Blood on the furry hair,
Blood oh, so glistening and fair,
(In fact it spread through the lair)
T’is he who guides my hand this night
Past all sense of wrong and right
To the hollow heart of fright
And there, all those of you who dare
To stand before the king and stare
Behold, I give you Puss of gore-stained boots!
And I, the handmaid of this Lord
Do pledge allegiance and accord
To he who rid the house of mouse.

The Companion’s Lament

The sun was slowly slinking down,
into my velvet tea.
And all that existed on the earth,
was the soul that once was me.

You’d doffed your hat. And stole my heart,
with a swirl of your cloak and cane.
Sparkles filled the cavities of my chest.
Too bad you were insane.

I grabbed your levers and fiddled your nobs.
But you declared my journey through.
Kicked me out in Year 3026.
I should’ve just banged Who.

In All Her Quiet Dignity She Rides

Blamed on Nicole Kornher-Stace

In all her quiet dignity she rides
proud horned horse propelled
by posterior flames.

Her mighty phallus-like
appendage everywhere
she struts, to the dismay
of most, if not all
(no pleasant penetration
does this mare provide).

Some have seen her soaring upwards
to the half-formed moon, a limp
body dangling at her head
others to Saturn, to test
the mettle of its rings
with her fearsome hinds.

Of only this we can be sure
in all her quiet dignity she rides
and none alive dare claim otherwise.

Fear the Zombie Ex-Girlfriend

Fear the Zombie ex-girlfriend
whose guts have been infected by jealousy.
If she had a conscious thought—
besides brains, human flesh, hungry NOW

it would be: if I can’t have you, I’ll eat you.
She winks demurely with her undead eyes.
Oddly, she looked like this in life as well.
She wants to eat parts of you right in front of me,

digesting you like an ungodly sacrament,
your body and her body entwined,
roaming the earth together,
ravenous together.

But she hasn’t got a thought in that hideous,
drooling mouth, her jaw half-broken, gaping.
Oh foolish man, why can’t you see that?

She just wants to eat her way through you
as if you were chocolate.

The Way of the Rodent

by irving

open the sunroof
the better to see the ship.
Where are my headlights?

The ship is landing
They look like tentacled mice.
Hand me the shotgun.

They carry ray guns
and they know how to use them.
Will miss that shotgun.

Say, "Welcome to Earth,
my wise and furry new friends.
How can I help you?"

Talking and trading,
Pointing them at the White House.
New ray gun is cool.

CZP's National Shitty Poetry Month!

Welcome to the 2nd Annual Shitty Poetry Month!

While it's National Poetry Month elsewhere in the world, here at ChiZine, we'd like to acknowledge all the terrible poems that spam the interwebs, grace greeting cards, and make you want to shoot yourself at open mic nights, especially after they run out of gin.

That's why we started SPoM! To revel in the glory of the (badly) written word, to make T.S. Eliot, Shakespeare and Anne Sexton turn in their graves.

Starting April 1st, we will post a brand new shitty poem each weekday on At the end of each week, you'll have the weekend to vote for your favourite bad poem. The winner of that week will be announced on the Monday.

At the end of the month, the four finalists will be pitted against each other in a pitched battle to the death, with a winner voted in by you, Gentle Readers.

Happy reading, and may the good shit be with you!

Shitty Poetry Month Championship Belt

Smeared Love

True love ways

Is what everyone says
But sometimes at night
my heart
beats like a Canada goose in flight
as I dream of your kiss
which is never a diss
when it comes like a hiss
from your winky lips
so rosy pink and sleek.

I need you to be my everything, my dear
My sincere affection for you, you must never
I can’t live without you, not even when I’m in
the loo.

I need you with me every second
of every day of my life, at every minute
every second. Or I will die like a space alien without

Let us run like the wildebeest and the zebra
Because I want to tether ya.
Your sweat tastes like Nutella
let me smear you all over white toast
instead of Becel—cause your love makes me
so well!
I guess love can only be true
if I can love you and you love me too!

CZP Nominated for Libris Award

We are absolutely thrilled to announce that we have been longlisted for the 2014 Libris Award in the "Small Press Publisher of the Year" category!

We want to thank all of our readers for all their love and support. Without our amazing readers and wonderful staff, amazing things like this couldn't happen for us.

Visit the Libris Awards website for more information.


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