Shit On Tumblr

Because the shit writing you publish offends us.

Jun 8

The Man at the End of My Bed


He stands quietly in the dark
And awaits for me to fall asleep.
His featureless face
Shows no expression
But he hides fear within him.
As I ascend into my dreams,
He watches over me.
He lets out a gentle cough
As his third arm scratches his scalp;
The right time will come
But not yet.
When the sun rises,
He creeps back into my closet,
Stays still and alert,
Ready for whenever I need him again.

Where a featureless face would cough from is not a question we want answering. 


Could you be the one

that truly loves me for me

and all of my flaws

No. We could never love anybody who writes like you. 

The Aftermath


Red lipstick
Smeared on white sheets,
Panties on the floor,
Your shirt laying by the door,
Candles melted
Into puddles of wax,
Heavy breathing
Slowing down as our bodies relax.
Our skin covered in salty beads
My heart thumping as yours leads.
My head on your bare chest
Your fingers in my hair
As we rest for another round
Of our bodies being bound.


Oh right, puddles of wax. We thought they might have melted into a car seat. Or into Neil Buchanan or something. 

"Panties" is a tricky one, isn’t it? We’ve heard it said that it’s a word almost impossible to use without sounding like a paedophile. At the time we said that was nonsense, but you’re certainly spearheading the theory admirably. 

Also, if you don’t want your sheets (white) literally smeared with lipstick (red), stop getting off with your bed.

Anonymous said: There are several other poems out there that needs checking. I'm wondering sometimes, if their poems really deserved the like or that they were just the popular writers being adored by many. I am not a critic, and sure is my works are crappy. But your blog will help us aspiring writers to be more discerning, to review our works carefully before we hit publish on our dash.

Dear Anonymous, 

Thanks for your correspondence on Wednesday 8 June 2011. 

We haven’t thought too much about the finer points of Tumblr’s like rating system and the Collective is not at all concerned with it. 

We have been drawn to the featured content lists if only because the implication is that such content is of a higher quality than that which is not featured. That’s not to say the Collective will only ever wield the hammer of critical justice towards featured material. But it is easier to find. 

Also, we should mention that we are not focusing on poetry. There are some within the Collective who feel the prose contributed on this platform is worse than the poetry. But as we mentioned earlier, we rarely agree on anything. 

Kind regards,

The C. 

justinpoole said: I love you

Dear justinpoole, 

Thank you for your correspondence on Wednesday, 8 June 2011. 

We sadly cannot reciprocate the love. There are too many of us in here and we never agree. 

Kindest regards,

The C.

santasinthelighthouse-deactivat said: This is brilliant.

Dear ohprintedwords,

Thank you for your correspondence on Wednesday, 8 June 2011. 

We agree that this is brilliant, though we are unsure what this actually is. 

Kindest regards,

The C. 

The Moment


When I confessed love

she just smiled and touched my hand

her eyes said the rest

This reminds us of a line often misattributed by idiots to William Shakespeare:

When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.

Don’t worry, the screaming will stop in a minute.

Clearly, the world cannot handle anymore of this - it’s saturated and about to burst. We don’t want to be here when she goes. 

Any additional line that emulates such intense levels of shittiness causes several thousands of goats to have heart attacks in remote parts of the world. Can you live with that graciouswords

This is a classic case of pseudo-profundtiy in 17 syllables, also known as the ‘haiku slaughter’. However, calling this a haiku would be like trying to find the Higgs with a pair of Fisher-Price binoculars - absurdly inappropriate. 

jayjaydanky said: Haha I love this. You should do every blog I have posted.

Dear jayjaydanky,

Many thanks for your recent correspondence on Wednesday 8 June 2011. 

Sadly we don’t have the resources to focus on one author. 

Needless to say, we will endeavour to survey your page at least once a week. 

Best wishes, 

The C. 

Im Waiting


That’s what I’m waiting for
The train, these stains
Your hand in mine
The flames
Your every grain
The time
Our crime
That’s what we’re waiting for
Each other
Me as a father
and you as a mother
You as my lover.

Okay, let’s break this down:

"That’s what I’m waiting for" - what, exactly?  

"The train" - Oh, you’re waiting for the train. Fine. We’ll leave you be.

"these stains/Your hand in mine" - Make sure to wash your hands in anti-bacterial soap. Didn’t you hear about the recent e-coli outbreak?

"The flames" - Now that’s a bit drastic. 

"Your every grain" - So now we’re waiting for a train transporting a load of grain that happens to be on fire? Or is this some other person who happens to produce wheat?

"The time/our crime/that’s what we’re waiting for" - Are you going to hijack the train? Is that what you’re waiting for?

"Each other/me as a father/and you as a mother/you as my lover" - Weren’t you waiting for a train a minute ago? 

Why aren’t you people aghast at these crimes as rhymanity? This is a severe violation of the Geneva Convention, which says rhymes must only be used in exceptional circumstances and if a writer wants to do so, then there needs to be a UN resolution. 


You’re being watched.

And let’s just say we’re not awfully impressed by what we see. 

If you attract our gaze, you should feel fucking privileged. 

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