DIY or just ones you love.
here's one i just saw. not mentioning any names.
SIMPLE SIMON met a Pie man going to the fair.
Said Simple Simon to the Pie man,
"What have you got there?"
Said the Pie man unto Simon,
"Pies, you dumb ass!"
Posted by
WarHead, around 17th March 2006:
If you were a bell, I'd ring you
If you were a song, I'd sing you
But you're you
So fuck off.
Similar theme then:
Love Song by Stephen Lynch
If I had a hammer, I'd build a house for two
And if I had a sailing ship, I'd take a trip with you
And if I had a poets hand, I'd write a verse for thee
And if I had the painter's touch, On canvas you'd be
But I don't have a hammer, And I dont have a ship
So I can't build your house, And we can't take a trip
And I'll never be a poet, Nor have the painter's grace
So I'll never write your verse, Nor immortalize your face
And also I have herpes
Posted by
Grim..., around 18th March 2006:
B is for the beauty that I recognise in you,
L is for the laughter that I hear the whole night through,
I is so infatuated with you, oh my dear,
M is for the music that I hear when you are near,
P is for the passion that I feel for you each day,
H is for the horror if you ever went away,
T is for the trust I put in you all else above,
Put them all together now and that.... spells.... BLIMPHT!
Blimpht by The Goodies.
Vincent van Gogh
cut a bit off
when his friends asked him why
he said eh? you what?
The Changing Face of Ireland pt. 1
Alas, the dark peat has covered the land,
The bog, the flax dam,
Like my father, poised, upon a roof
His shovel held high,
Fell, like a descending leaf,
a graceful descent, above the bog
Eaten by a bear.
His spade, now, lies rusty and old,
i stoop, to pick my pen,
From the wet peat.
The slap of sod onto the earth,
The taste of potatoes,
The bottle of elderly gin on my windowsill.
i turn and write. To set the ground
Shaking. a comet passes. But i do not see.
Tonight, i shall go to the Bee Hive.
No longer a place for honey,
But a pub. We shall drink there tonight.
Although i am broke. And must scrounge drinks
From my kindly friends. Surely one day
Someone shall give me a job. But for now, i turn
Take up the spade, and dig.
The Changing Face of Ireland pt. 2
Phone Mast Dave
amidst a waterfall of dreadlocks
parted the rapids
and reached for a lighter
Dublin accent
With a twang of canadian
For this
We have hip-hop to blame
Cyclops like
He took Ulysses from my bookshelf
A handy flat surface
To roll some jazz
Stately, Plump
I hoped he didn’t roach the cover.
Posted by
WarHead, around 19th March 2006:
Sheer genius, doc.
Jilted
My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.
Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.
While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and tart,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.
Guess the poet.
If she knew what she wants
(He'd be givin' it to her)
If she knew what she needs
(He'd be givin' it to her)
The Staircase Under the Bush
The girl she crept into the garden,
All dark round but for the moon.
She looked in under a lardon,
And discovered a greasy bassoon.
"How then,' she cried with alarm,
"did this thing ever get there?"
"i thought i left it with marm
"ee, supposedly safe in her care."
This girl you see she could play
The most delightful of hits.
On portions of cow matter grey
and the greasiest of bacony bits.
A prize, this lardon of hers.
She valued it so dear.
Gifted by Stradi's, famed butchers:
What the hell was it doing it out here?
"What now, with a slimy bassoon?
"Isn't it some kind of monkey?
"Alack for my modern educatioon!
"My ignorance is pretty much gibbon."
She swung from the movable keys.
She beat her chest with its pointy top spout.
She brachiated with amazingest ease.
And the hair from her body just sprout.
Joy! She found it unconfined,
As she discarded lardon muse.
What mattered funky bacon hits?
When one capered without trews!
And so her marm ee found her thus disposed:
Her girl come a hairy bassoon.
Her album sales remain undisclosed,
And she capers in the moonlit gardoon.
Posted by
WarHead, around 21st March 2006:
Doesn't make a lot of sense, either.
Oh and Syl, it's Syl-via Plath...
Ted: Hi honey, I'm home. Wow, what's for dinner?
Sylvia: MY HEAD!!1
Yep! (Doc if you knew that without Googling, then I am very impressed.)
hahahahahahahaha!
heck, I been reading sylvia plath since i was cuttin me wrists as a doomstruck teenager looking for some chants of anger in poetry form, mate..
Posted by
Brock, around 22nd March 2006:
Awwww. So nice to hear such a touching story of youthful exuberance, Doc.
Saltation
It was a metaphysical critique not a poem
Oh brother mine
You filthy swine
Your birthday's best forgotten
This card's to wish you
All the worst
And may your day be rotten
That's a poem
Posted by
WarHead, around 22nd March 2006:
Pfffftttt, ha ha ha ha .... salti said 'peomtry.'
oh and doc: "My HEAD" -> i looked blankly at this for a second then the penny dropped and i laughed out loud. nice one.
Hello Spring
The sun came out at last today;
I never knew the sun was gay.
Posted by
Emma, around 26th March 2006:
I wanted your soft verges
But you gave me the hard shoulder
Regrets
Out of their secret places
in autumn, from under
dark logs and smooth gravestones
they come, black snakes,
stripped, floating free
in the golden September sunlight
which drifts as they try
to hold onto it.
They lay their bodies
across our warm paths,
branches of misspent hours,
limbs from the low gullies.
Past school children and old men
they wind, making no sound
sliding the earth in silence,
riding a world that seems dull
and hazy, half-spent,
beautiful errors
that rise up as we gasp.
That's really nice. I like it. Can I steal it?
Emma: *Doc flicks through "The Mersey Sound*... love that poem.
Lines written upon meeting a beautiful girl with a glass eye
Like Gordon facing Blunkett
In a heated cabinet meeting
You rolled your eyes at me
I lowered my eyebrows
One at a time
Leant forwards
And rolled them back
School was never going to be a kingdom of the blind
You were envious of the kid with the hare lip
As she came off better than you
So when you turned eighteen
We all clubbed together
And got you one
You came round from the operation
Looking puzzled
As we shouted surprise
"To a Pekingese"
You were so soft, so sweet, so small,
And yet you gave your heart and all
Your love - until you died
Walking along the wrong side
Of the road.
The car didn't stop and I found you there,
Your eyes were closed and your long white fur
Was covered in blood and you didn't stir
When I called.
Such a little life, so little time
To live, and yet you were part of mine.
And I never can walk in the mud and rain
Without seeing you dead again
In the road
Doc that hair lip one is really really good.
Lucy, that pekingese one is bloody brilliant. do you mind i quote it?
Something inside rumbled
Speeding up, gathering pace
To the lavatory I stumbled
Into the bowl I placed my face
I heaved up my stomach load
Through my oesophagus
Out it came, it did explode
That's why I missed my bus
Sorry I'm late.
Posted by
WarHead, around 31st March 2006:
Ten housepoints for Gryffindor for the use of 'oesophagus' in a poem.
Posted by
Grim..., around 31st March 2006:
I sat to write down my feelings
Of love and wonderment for you
But you're blind, aren't you
So I just wrote a letter to my friend
And lied to you about it
You cried with happiness
But I was grinning in your face
Stupid blind bitch
The Moment I Realised I Hadn't Turned the Hob Off
by Dan Sullivan
Arrrrgh you
Baarrrstard
Farrrrk that hurt
Posted by
WarHead, around 31st March 2006:
I cried!
She says to me, "I said to you"
I'm ignoring her, "I'm ignoring you"
She's a bitch, "You're a cunt"
I wont crack, "Nor will I"
Fucking women's intuition, "I heard that".
sul you're a genius in a slightly doccish sort of way :D
An Ode to SG
by Dan Sullivan
Oh Security Girl
With your eyes the brightest blue
Oh Security Girl
My love for you just grew
To something of an obsession
Forgive my brief transgression
I just wanted to be touching you
With my penis
Another Ode to SG
by Dan Sullivan
Security Girl, rock my world
In your security based ways
Strip and humiliate, as though an affiliate
Of Guantanamo bay
Yes, S.G., debase me hard
I’m your little bitch
I’ll let you cuff me, as long as you duff me
Then dump me in a ditch
Posted by
Grim..., 10th April 2006:
Is the security girl fit, then?
Yes she is. Though I've not engaged her in any real conversation yet so I have no idea what she's like on the inside. I'm guessing pink and moist.
Posted by
Brock, 10th April 2006:
I'd hold judgement on the 'moist', dude. That may only happen if she is consenting.
Posted by
Grim..., 10th April 2006:
Not so - it's an automatic thing...
Forget I said that.
it's all right, you typed it softly -- nobody read you
Posted by
Grim..., around 11th April 2006:
(It's okay Syl, I wasn't talking about the time me and you got together - you were like Victoria Falls)
*giggle*
You should be SO LUCKY!
In other news, I am eating dried figs. They look like elephant scabs. But quite yummy though. (I have lost 6kg on the Beverly Hills Diet) and a total of 8 kilo's this year! Say Woo! Say Yay! Say Me!
Posted by
Grim..., around 11th April 2006:
Er - that's not my name 0_o
Too Busy For a Title
by Dan Sullivan
Sun’s bright, Burns my eyes
Join in weary travellers sighs
Living shouldn’t be this tough
Feeling rough
Walk’s brisk, Burns my legs
Stepping over city dregs
Living shouldn’t be this tough
Feeling rough
What d’ya do? How’s it pay?
Down tools, up sticks, out my way
Of the corporate bond please strip me
Going away, gonna be a hippy
Love’s free, Everywhere
A beautiful thing for all to share
Living life, how you should
Feeling good
We’re one, Everything
Compliment the birds that sing
Living life, how you should
Feeling good
That is very very good. Sulleh, nice one. :D
Posted by
WarHead, around May 2006:
I
was a hippy
And look where it got me.
Posted by
WarHead, around May 2006:
(I have lost 6kg on the Beverly Hills Diet) and a total of 8 kilo's this year! Say Woo! Say Yay! Say Me!
Woo! Yay! Me!
Congrats. Can you get back into that school uniform now? ;0)
heh heh Thanks Warhead. Alas, no I would need to lose 25 to get into those.
Posted by
WarHead, around May 2006:
I heard you the first time.
/puts camera back in its case.
Sul; good poems, especially the first SG one...
With any luck the glass eye poem should be published in some kind of magazine in a couple of weeks. Score!
Yeah, well done mate. What kind of magazine?
Posted by
WarHead, around May 2006:
Suppository World.
It's a free Brighton magazine called Latest 7 that has a poetry and spoken word column..
Oh and here's a new one I wrote
Gaunty and the Tubber
She was cello shaped
He was more like a bow
And a beautiful sound emerged
As he rubbed his horse hair
Against her cat gut
Posted by
WarHead, around May 2006:
How rude.