See, see the complicated sky
Marvel at its big beige depths.
Tell me, Amy Turn Sharp do you
Wonder why the walrus ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel apprehensive.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your snerdwaddle facial growth
That looks like
What's more, it knows
Your zarf potting shed
Smells of pea.
Everything under the big complicated sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm cat fartss.
If you're wondering what the hell is up with that terrible poem up there, it's supposed to be terrible, because it's a Vogon poem that I created using the Vogon Poem Generator. The Vogons are a fictional alien race from the planet Vogsphere in Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Here is a description of Vogon poetry from the book itself:
Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe.
The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning" four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been "disappointed" by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled "My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles" when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save humanity, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.
The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paul Neil Milne Johnstone of Redbridge, in the destruction of the planet Earth. Vogon poetry is mild by comparison.