h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I would like to leave some scraps with you that I feel insecure about leaving around - nothing disturbing, just personal

thanks heaps

Hi rosi, and welcome to the LPO. Happy to look after your "scraps". If you feel OK about posting them in this thread, I can turn them into a page, and link them to the Lost Poetry Office. If you don't want them visible, just post again here, and we'll figure something out.

Hi Kes, it se I am too late and have lost some already.

Did turn this up though, I wrote a song ( that I'm very happy with),directly from a dream, and a month later something interesting happened when I looked at the text, these are the words that lined up down the centre of the page.

Wake Up Around You


Wake up
Warm and windy
train together
pictures
fountain
rising hands
splashing crystal
with the hours
it was cold
by the windowa nun
wrapped in black
Shadows walked
Sunday
footsteps
the old pair
out of harms way
on the platform
around you


x
rosi

bugger.

try this

Wake Up Around You


Wake up
Warm and windy
train together
pictures
fountain
rising hands
splashing crystal
with the hours
it was cold
by the window
a nun
wrapped in black
Shadows walked
Sunday
footsteps
the old pair
out of harms way
on the platform
around you



eggs
rosi

And another, this one is actually a waltz.

SKUNK

I,m a punk, I'm a drunk.
My life's a heavy funk.
I've got holes at all the corners
and there full 'o' sunken junk.
I've got trouble by the shipload
on the bottom of the bay,
where other wrecks they lay restin'
where the brine won't wipe away.

You don't have to ask the night to tell
just how low I sunk.
Down the well 'o' hell fell
where my stone heart echoes,
and the sournesss,I suck it.
My head it says "Oh f**k it."
When the alarms were ringin',
singin' bright, my broken bell went clunk.

Then while you were laughin'
in I slunk, a bit of shit, a bit of skunk,
in the peoples' moral litter
I'm a bitter little runt.
Take me to the precipice,
shunt me in the right direction.

Singin' this blues aint so funny
and the skies are not so sunny.
My stone heart eyes are runnin',
close behind the cries are comin',
like a murmer 'mid the thrummin'
of the drum 'a' brewin'
nectar of the blues Gods
to be vomit in my honey.

Now I'm no longer coy.
Thanks to all the help who shrunk
all my ideas to a dirty stain,
and set me on this hopeless chase.
No I'm not,a holy monk
No I am not
a little boy.

Hi again, rosi.

It's taken me a couple of days ('cos of RL interruptions), but I've put your first poem into the Lost Poetry Office. I managed to get it centred as well. Hope you like it. You can view it directly at A1108153, or though a link on the LPO page.