tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18991579377057738682024-02-21T00:08:06.097+00:00The Pope's BolloxWhere only the most pretentious verse is found.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-22492502763818098222017-04-01T17:03:00.001+01:002017-04-01T17:03:31.716+01:00Hayden Pennyfeather<p dir="ltr">Hayden Pennyfeather<br>
Floyd Mayweather<br>
Hayden Pennyfarthing<br>
Hayden beg your pardon </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hayden penny for your thoughts<br>
Floyd may the force be with you<br>
Hayden find a penny pick it up<br>
Hayden and all day you'll have good<br>
Pennyfeather.</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-31825092772477744462016-08-30T16:43:00.001+01:002016-08-30T16:47:03.003+01:00Vilipend<p dir="ltr">He, <u>T</u>he Sun observed<br>
Did vilipend <br>
The hot, pregnant<br>
Rays<br>
of Summer;<br>
Came to early,<br>
left,<br>
too late.<br>
Fucking wasps.</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-13062711400182362852016-01-20T00:08:00.001+00:002016-01-20T00:08:28.362+00:00Liquid<p dir=ltr>5.5 litres<br>
Plus coffees and teas<br>
And now it's a Fosters<br>
But he's only peed<br>
4, maybe 5 times<br>
To his recollection<br>
How is his body capable <br>
Of such liquid collection?</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-91190365337756795112016-01-20T00:04:00.001+00:002016-01-20T00:04:57.639+00:00Stuck<p dir=ltr>His schedule<br>
A mess<br>
He trys his very<br>
Best<br>
To leave the house. But<br>
Despite his best efforts<br>
He'a incapable of leaving<br>
And finds himself stuck<br>
At Lords.<br></p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-37458056621181292332016-01-05T23:30:00.000+00:002016-01-06T02:10:27.650+00:00Knock, KnockAt 10:30 he rises,<br />
Shines he does not,<br />
As down the stairs he dresses<br />
Upon hearing a knock.<br />
The postman? It must be,<br />
But his brow drops when it's not;<br />
<i>Are we honest?</i><br />
Two women in winter attire<br />
Ask, as he gazes through eyes groggy and tired<br />
Probably? Just about? Most people try?<br />
<i>No, young man, don't you see? the world's wicked and dire!</i><br />
He answers when asked, no, he has not read the bible.<br />
<i>Oh, nevermind, you're not religious? That's fine!<br />But if you get tempted it's now free online!<br /><br />JW.ORG</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-27777503957911247252016-01-04T23:30:00.000+00:002016-01-06T02:07:20.526+00:00The Spree Pt. 1<div dir="ltr">
In bed he lies<br />
About to close his eyes<br />
But by-and-by<br />
He must try<br />
To write a verse<br />
That sort of rhymes;<br />
'cause like it or not<br />
He's lost the plot, and<br />
Is only <br />
Writing to continue<br />
The spree.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-43276288056112202092016-01-03T23:57:00.001+00:002016-01-03T23:57:05.544+00:00Beans on Beans<p dir="ltr">Forget the toast<br>
It's beans on roast<br>
Beans on pasta<br>
Beans, the most<br>
Universal haricot<br>
Open the can:<br>
They're good to go.<br>
Corbyn's supper,<br>
Bazza's lunch<br>
But eat them for both<br>
And you'll regret that munch</p>
<p dir="ltr">The writer's seemingly harmless obsession with beans likely hides a darker, more menacing addiction to harder substance abuse, ad we can infer from the word 'haricot' - most likely cockney rhyming slang for blow,  or cocaine. </p>
<p dir="ltr">This interpretation <u>is</u> supported further by the lexical choice of 'munch' - surely referencing the famous 'munchies' that accompany the ingestion of marijuana.</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-49771856026514089132016-01-02T22:58:00.001+00:002016-01-02T22:58:53.525+00:00An Online Affair (AKA Halo without Jlo)<p dir="ltr">Man plays Halo<br>
Not one-on-one Highground<br>
But an online match<br>
In which deaths<br>
Abound.<br>
For try as he might<br>
Despite all his might<br>
He still can't quite<br>
Go positive on his KD<br>
Stats.</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-22706458106082405582016-01-01T23:30:00.000+00:002016-01-06T02:07:54.256+00:00New Years Day Day<div dir="ltr">
Again the time comes<br />
The new year has begun<br />
And in true January style<br />
His head and body feel vile<br />
A night of overindulgence <br />
On white strike and stubbies<br />
Of pints in pubs with homeless blokes<br />
And accidental drunken morning smokes<br />
Has left his head reeling and<br />
His whole body feeling<br />
Too bad to...<br />
FIN.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-72913773701198126362015-11-11T15:30:00.000+00:002015-11-11T15:30:28.949+00:00FreeganMan eats pizza<br />
with garlic sauce.<br />Despite his best<br />
Intentions<br />
to avoid such dairy-dabbling.<br /><br />Later ham, a most overwhelmingly<br />
Underwhelming<br />
of meats.<br />
Despite his lifelong<br />
Avoidance<br />
of an animal appetite.<br /><br />Why?<br />Then does he continue to<br />
Devour such<br />forbidden fruits that aren't fruits.<br />
Because they were going in the bin.<br />
<br />
<br />
Although it may at first appear though the writer has developed a carnivorous lifestyle since birth - as is illustrated through their description of ham as an 'underwhelming[...]' De Factomeat which highlights their refined palette for dead flesh - this idea is quickly refuted by the 10th line's central theme of 'avoidance' of an 'animal appetite'. Thus we are, as a reader, led to believe that the writer is weak-minded and suffering from an inner turmoil between what their ideals - avoidance of 'fruits that aren't fruits' (by which we can infer the poet means meat and dairy) and their consumption of said foodstuffs. However this theme of inner turmoil is again subverted by the poem's elegantly simple last line 'Because they were going in the bin'.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-5573776358168294132014-08-29T21:52:00.000+01:002014-08-29T21:52:06.664+01:00Bush SleepsHe sleeps in a bush<br />To while the time<br />Dreams of shrub bandits<br />And stabbing divine<br />Southampton Central<br />Has not proved successful <br />But come 5 a.m.<br />He's gonna go<br />Loco.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-47790920181973486872014-02-02T23:05:00.000+00:002014-02-02T23:08:37.489+00:00Custard Cream SonnetCustard Creams start out a dream<br />
Crunch and munch that sugar lunch<br />
Crisp sweet wheat meets oh-so-creamy<br />
Centred filling: truly dreamy<br />
At half a pack, it's time to stop<br />
But try as he might, his jaw won't lock<br />
Closed for second, opting instead<br />
To consume yet more biscuits<br />
Against the will of his head.<br />
Crumb after crumb, his taste buds numb<br />
Until he's eaten every one.<br />
But at what cost? 35p seems no great loss...<br />
But look in his eyes and lo and behold<br />
The sugar hangover's taken hold.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-35060453118866748752013-11-05T00:14:00.001+00:002013-11-05T00:14:09.158+00:00Pre-SleepPre-sleep,<br />Like drinks,<br />Comes before<br />Sleep;<br />
That's not to say<br />That sleep<br />
Is weak<br />
But they can't<br />
Both come first.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-37802243695228461712013-04-08T02:15:00.001+01:002013-04-08T02:15:53.814+01:00On-Screen KeyboardOn-Screen Keyboard<br />
Makes typing a chore<br />
The words take so long<br />
This poem's a bore<br />
Click, click, click, click<br />
Time after time<br />
He soon starts to wonder<br />
If it's worth finishing<br />
This rhyme<br />
<br />
Discuss.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-16832179637311234262013-04-03T19:57:00.002+01:002013-04-03T19:57:35.710+01:00Sesame OilSesame oil<br />
Makes budget noodles<br />
Less of a<br />
Toil<br />
Brought to the boil<br />
Any plan to foil<br />
His enjoyment of<br />
Such cheap flour<br />
Coils<br />
Is rendered useless, with<br />
Sesame oil<br />
<br />
The manner in which the author places emphasis on verb 'toils' and later the concrete noun 'coils' by attributing each word with their oen respective line, suggests that these lexical devices are of tantamount importance within the verse. If one were to read the poem with a critical focus on its allusions to modern society, it could perhaps be inferred that the 'Toil' of which the author speaks is in fact referring the toil of mankind, which through all its hard work, only ever 'Coils': perhaps alluding to the concept of a closed loop system in which no progress is ever made but rather that which exists already within said loop is purely sustained. The structure of the verse, both beginning and ending with the words 'Sesame oil', reinforces the idea of a loop, whilst also bringing a reference to Western society's dependence on 'oil' into the poetic commentary.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-63456056619563337912013-04-02T03:32:00.000+01:002013-04-02T03:32:53.744+01:00HorseflySuckle at my knuckle<br />A horsefly or two<br />Human blood for them<br />
Seems the perfect brew<br />
When they've had their fill<br />
Their bellies quenched<br />
My knuckles're left red raw<br />
Like an overworked wench<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-86732740193899766142013-02-27T21:13:00.001+00:002013-02-27T21:13:15.078+00:00Drunken FallWhilst under the influence<br />Of many intoxicants<br />
He falls on his face<br />
With flair and grace<br />
The impression left<br />Is at it's best<br />
A a gruesome display<br />
Which would leave many<br />
In dismay<br />Blood on his chin<br />
And a bloodied grin<br />
Nose swollen like a<br />
Mirinda can<br />At least falling on his face<br />
Protected his hands<br />
<br />
The author is quite clearly making a decisive and critical point regarding the state of the modern youth, and through references to the use of 'intoxicants' in such a negative light, crafts a verse of a foreboding nature. The moral of the story is enticingly potent through its simplicity: alcohol is to be avoided if one is to avoid injuring their nose to the point that it resembles a 'Mirinda can'.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-73814526199460007502013-01-12T23:59:00.000+00:002013-01-15T07:48:03.632+00:00Birthday DayBirthday day<br />
Hip hip hooray<br />
Although in his eyes<br />
He'd much rather stay<br />
'nineteen forever'<br />
Rather than age;<br />
Twenty's plenty<br />
That's agreed<br />A beer and a curry<br />
Is all that he needs<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-25623284103952865312012-12-31T17:06:00.000+00:002012-12-31T17:07:01.959+00:00Last day Of The YearLast day of the year<br />
But do not fear<br />
For in a matter of hours<br />
A new year will be here<br />
Exactly the same<br />
As the one just gone<br />
But with a different digit<br />
Next to the '1'Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-46358395661222612662012-12-08T06:04:00.000+00:002012-12-08T06:04:24.240+00:00Existential CrisisExistential crisis<br />In the middle of the night<br />Is<br />Something unexpected<br />Not easily solved by<br />Anything he can do,<br />For, when all is said and done<br />To do<br />Is to what?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-2883447946853457622012-12-05T21:46:00.000+00:002012-12-05T21:46:03.249+00:00AsleepAll his housemates are asleep<br />This is not okay, <br />he needs their company, for his sanity to<br />Keep<br />For on his own, he just procrastinates<br />And wastes his un-precious time<br />
By writing such nonsense<br />As this unimportant rhyme<br />Somebody should really<br />Make him right some proper words<br />That aren't fucking stupid<br />And slightly absurd<br />But they're asleep.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-3802875969840842662012-12-04T04:55:00.002+00:002012-12-05T21:46:25.072+00:00Forgets How To SleepHe forgets how to sleep<br />
His sanity to keep<br />
Though he is worn and exhausted<br />
All his energy deported<br />
To some distant and remote<br />
Castle with a moat<br />
Of fire and electric wire<br />
To keep him from getting his respire<br />
He still must find a way<br />
To end and start the dayUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-42605543569513821092012-12-02T16:51:00.001+00:002012-12-02T16:51:52.025+00:00Needs To WorkHe needs to work<br />
Deadlines are looming<br />
But try as he might<br />
His mind is booming<br />
With thoughts not of work<br />
Or assignments due in<br />
But rather of all together<br />
Quite different things<br />
He knows he must concentrate<br />
But finds it a chore<br />
All this thinking is making his brain <br />
Sore<br />
<br />
<br />
We can infer from this verse that the author is a master of procrastination: choosing to compose first-class poetry perfection rather than dealing with 'deadlines [...] looming': in itself a comment on the procrastination of society as a whole.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-53530559391038894592012-12-02T11:36:00.000+00:002012-12-02T11:40:56.740+00:00DreamsDreams awake him from his slumber<br />
Lying fast asleep as lumber<br />
He wishes they would let him be<br />
Instead of forcing him to see<br />
Memories painful and sorely missed<br />
Oh wait, no<br />
It was in fact a need to piss<br />
<br />
Clearly the author is suffering some confusion as to whether the poetic voice's awakening was caused by dreams or as the writer so elegantly states, 'a need to piss', which it could be inferred is a satirical comment on the nature of human emotions: which are such that they can be confused with a desire to urinate. Insightful.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1899157937705773868.post-38312911534563509562012-12-02T03:22:00.002+00:002012-12-02T03:22:32.019+00:00JoggingHe pops out for some milk<br />
And before he can think<br />
His legs have taken over<br />
With his brain not in sync<br />
He's running and running<br />
Heart pumping away<br />
This is not how he imagined<br />
He'd end his short day<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0