the contemporary poet (my 2nd poem of the year)
sirb...@hotmail.com
dip fell in the milk
'the milk's not milk
it's lava!'
in a disagreed mood
he did eat food,
waiting for the glue
he ate someone else's glue.
certain shitters
would not have claimed such,
but this shitter
did no such thing.
arse exploded into the room
as if in a western,
only it wasnt a western,
it was the pantry.
the singer searched for lyrics
the poet desired a chorus,
so they went and did a frankenstein
but frankenstein had the copyright.
little nipple had a complex
oh, he did feel too big,
so he cut himself off
and became a smaller nipple.
an argument entered a conversation
but could not and would not stop agreeing,
so as a new year's resolution
he decided to start disagreeing.
not long did such a resolution last
for known to all who float
and to them that fly
we are but flip-flopping past/blast
felt by a finger
tickled did it said the singer,
the sailor felt arse-fucked
but it was only the tailor.
the poet felt it time to quote
and the quote felt it was time to float,
but the water went on strike
and the poet had a bad fall.
the lovers in the sitting-room (no room for shitting)
sitting did they discover
havoc raging in the streets,
so the cat ate them
and the dog ran into the kitchen
followed by the cat
but the fridge fell on the cat
and the biscuits nuclearly exploded.
the door-frame felt like attention-seeking
so it attention-seeked
but ignored by the preteen girls
the door-frame failed
but one failure is another's success
so the chairs scored
cuz the preteen girls started poking their cunts
with the chair legs.
the loudspeaker began to believe
in some self-help book
so he gave himself a wank
but the other loudspeaker complained
and went on strike
and refused to type
so the loudspeaker gave in
and wanked him too.
the wooden stairs
shat on the stairs,
and the dog complained
and got up to loads of shit.
so the stairs complained
but the dog would not stop
and did not
and never did stop.
the poet got his poems adapted
yup
adapted into songs
yup, they became lyrics
so in the rock concert
hailed as an auteur
the poet scored
but caught herpes.
the kitchen exploded
and fell out of the window
and became a different kind of kitchen
but the oven wasn't working
and i don't know why
i don't really know why,
the kitchen just mysteriously stopped working
why, oh lord, why?
kath is such a bitch (realism)
and so is kim (at)
the fat one's a moron (last)
not to mention hunk of spunk (realism)
talk about abject bollocks (at)
and incisions into further incisions (last)
she's having a baby (realism)
this one's having a baby (at).
flirt is such a git (last)
but decides to not fall in the pit
and tells the dog to sit
but the dog gives him the finger
tells him to fuck off
etcetera
the owner is surprised
and surprised is perplexed.
the poet fulfills the quota
the minimum to qualify as a poet
for a poet doth do indeed need a poem
in order to qualify as a poet
so there (s)he is poeting away
and it's not even may
what utter greatness
what an utterance of greatness.
could be worse
after all
steve martin quotes sun kil moon
and sun kil moon glenn tipton
and clare danes interior monologues
what a pschitzo
and a j langer climbs into the british aristocracy
could be better
dylan doesn't stop wanking
he deserves a good spanking
i'll deliver the spanking
like in www.89.com
in the spanking section
with all those red bottoms
for what under the sun
is not bottom and redness?
i discovers i
but falls in the pie
so i fails to reach i
i's squished out dry
and it's all cuz of the pie
it's all due to the pie
the pie's dry
and dry's dry.
what a great poet
i mean, look at it
what a great poem
ask the dust!
oh, editors!
begin your editing!
for what greatness is but this?
such magnificience surely deserves editing?
OH BECOME BECOME BECOME!
OH YOU GROOVY LITTLE LOVE BUCKET!
OH YOU BLOODY MARVEL!
shit, shit shit!
WHAT UTTER GREATNESS!
yup, yup, yup!
GOODNESS GOODNESS GOODNESS!
BLOODY BLOODY MARVELOUS!
ride of the valkyries!
ride of the valkyries!
ride of the valkyries!
ride of the valkyries!
ride of the valkyries!
ride of the valkyries!
ride of the valkyries!
ride of the valkyries!
'i am he and you is me!'
and do i disagree
and floated upon by them
and them in the den.
denizens in the ken
but not really,
and yes more lines
and more and more.
fucked by a river that does not sleep
and shitted upon by fuck knows
and flying off the motorway
cuz the car goes econuts.
shitted upon by a glob
and fucked by a blob that does not sleep,
but they all made peace
and went surfing.
to be continued
this poem is to be continued,
this poem is to be continued,
this poem is to be continued,
this pooeemm
this one, two, three, four...
it's to be continued,
the poem's continuing.
andrew bird is such a wank biscuit.
i, on the other hand,
am not such a wank biscuit.
brian wilson is such a wank biscuit
i, on the further hand,
am not such a wank biscuit.
howe gelb says it's hot outside
and laura's not the tremblin' kind.
one nation under a groove!
one nation under a groove!
one nation under a groove!
one nation under a groove!
one nation under a groove!
one nation under a groove!
one nation under a groove!
one nation under a groove!
Peter J Ross
<sirb...@hotmail.com> wrote in rec.arts.poems:
> slip, lip, nip
> dip fell in the milk
> 'the milk's not milk
> it's lava!'
> in a disagreed mood
> he did eat food,
I thought you might like to know that I read as far as this before
becoming convinced that the rest was likely to be just as bad.
Read some poetry.
Spend at least a week working on your next composition before posting
it to Usenet.
HTH.
<mercy-snip>
--
PJR :-)
King Rundzap
I'm not sure I agree on who is and who isn't a wank biscuit though.
sirb...@hotmail.com wrote:
> slip, lip, nip
> dip fell in the milk . . .