In memory of the Battle of Hoth:

We had forgotten our sleds and skis
Faster we ran as not to freeze
The base was stormed
The troops were warmed
So no parts would stick to our knees

The slaves of Plagueis are many
But they hardly make our Clan a penny.
Before the slave ship can fill
Selika swoops in for the kill
And then Telyas is left with hardly any.

A slave boy took his pod for a spin,
Then knocked up the queen with twins.
He sliced up some kids,
got some black-leather digs.
And left the order, to Obi's chagrin!

Never call Teylas Teytey.
Doing so would be cray cray.
But if you insist
on doing this
He'll punt you in the vajayjay.

We took the hill that day, Warrior Selika Roh di Plagia Wrath of the Dreadlord Proconsul of Plagueis at the lead,
cleansing the world of Jedi, we wished were dead,
"Wipe them out, all of them," she spake,
Burn them all like a hated Jar-Jar at the stake,
The view a few steps behind her was good enough for me.

What would I compare thee to?
You art like unto a Ithorian rose,
Wild and untamed, but beautiful.

What would I compare unto thee?
Like twin suns, rising in the morn,
Or the dance of three moons, setting across the sky.

What can compare to thee?
Only the cosmos, only its stature grand,
Can even compare to what I see from thee.

this is a joke
there's no need for love
sith are pure hatred
the force is my glove

tried to be funny
but those priorities are insane
so this is a poem
that's nothing but a pain

blood is red
i am blue
poetry is a worthless skill
this is worthless to me too