Can Flutherites write stories just like Dr. Seuss, or would that be like sticking my head in a noose?

You can ask your dad,
You can ask your mother
You can ask anyone
Who lives on Fluther.

The pentameter is bad
The rhyming even worse
When you get silly poets
Trying to write verse.

We could go for stanzas,
Trying to be witty
But the product of our work
Will turn out really shitty.

With his ball bag on fire & anus impacted
He screamed like a girl. How would you have reacted?
She giggled & smiled & laughed at his pain
“Sit back down bitch, I’m gonna make it rain!”

And rain it sure did, even though he was flaccid
The burning got started with some battery acid
His nipples were gone & his pubic hair too
“Ready for more? There’s three rounds not two!”

Roses are Red, Nuts are brown,
Skirts go Up, Pants go Down,
Body to Body, Skin to Skin,
When it is Stiff, Stick it In,
The Longer its In, The stronger it Gets,
It goes in Dry, Comes out Wet,...
It comes out dripping, and it starts to Sag,
Its not what you Think…its a Teabag

Dr. Seuss deliberately used a vocabulary of less than 800 words, many of them one-syllable, for most of his books, if you are looking for accuracy.

Horse #1 and horse #2 have a barn with a view
where they munch and they brunch on hay and grain too
They prance and they dance they buck and they play
and poo buckets of green eggs all the long day

They snort and they whinny, they paw and they roll
their big heavy hooves dig the deepest of holes
Their spiffy plaid blankets keep them warm in the cold
they’re big and they’re strong and their tough and their bold

Horse #1 and horse #2 know who’s the boss
Isn’t me they contend but they let me pretend
Is the bossiest boss a blonde or a hoss?
Pick up the whip, be careful don’t slip, don’t flail or curse, it could be much worse
to be hauled from the stall by a horse drawn hearse.

There was once a man from Nantucket,
With a chamber pot full of piss,
He transfered it all into a huge bucket,
It’s cold out so he said fuck this,
Not goin’ out no way man, fuck et!

There was a young chaplain from Springs,
Who talked about God and such things.
But is real desire
Was a boy in the choir,
With a bottom like jelly on springs.

He finally got the boy,
But what he didn’t know,
This kid could control toys,
He brought them to life against this foe.

The man who wanted to grab young ass,
Got his kicked instead,
By toy soldiers and a pretty plastic lass,
His remains were hidden under the bed.