I don’t like Star Wars

“I don’t like Star Wars,” I tell someone new.
“You don’t like Star Wars? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I say,
“It’s just not for me; it’s just not my thing, it’s just not my scene
I don’t like it, OK?”
But no, it’s not alright, people won’t listen.
They try to convince me; they make it their mission.

But I don’t like space ships, robots or Darth Vader,
storm troopers, light sabres, galactic invaders
Chewbacca, Han Solo, Leia or Luke
and Jabba’s big belly makes me want to puke.
I don’t like the Ewoks. They get on my nerves
Complete decimation is what they deserve.

“But Star Wars’ amazing,” they tell me again.
“Not the prequels by Lucas; we all regret them,
But Ray, Kylo Ren, BB8 and Fin!
The new films are so cool. Where do I begin?”

“But I don’t like Star Wars," I reiterate, not wanting to argue to rise to the bait.

I don’t like the puppets or special effects,
The latex, the make-up or hair that’s back swept.
I don’t like explosions, the Emperor or Sith.
The fact that they made five and then made a sixth.

But the main thing I hate is that every accuser
Thinks if you don’t love it, you must be a loser.
“You don’t like Star Wars? You don’t really mean it.”
“It’s a classic, fantastic; you just haven’t seen it.”

But I have, and I hate it, I mean really a lot,
And as Yoda would say, like it, I do not.