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

Nickless was the last of the Romanovs,
And have no nickles, was poor as well.
He dabbled in art a bit with the Fauves.
I don't know if he's in heaven of hell.

Bless the chess players,
who start their games with a prayer.
But their prayers are very funny,
praying to become a sunny bunny.
As they try to keep a straight face,
thinking that they are in a race.
Then fall about laughing.
as they go graphing.
And ending up caressing their dresses.
It makes them messy, in need of a press,
trying to impress with their success.

You can have a lot more laughs playing draughts with giraffes.
Even the best playing chess are under duress.
They press for the girl in the dress to move a pawn while she's eating a prawn.
Prawn crackers and off to the knackers for all of the rest
A nice game of poker, she spoke a moment ago.
But twice I was throwing the dice and the nice girl let me uncurl.
I love all these games with a lady, I never will play with a gent
Well I've tried to tell you and I think you know what I meant.
I've got to go now, before all my money is spent.

Excuses lame, passing blame, all the same, hypocrisy.
Naughty babies I could name in the cradle of democracy.

They tell me to wake up and smell the coffee but I am a good deal more clever than that.
When selling my house no smell of a mouse, who can tell there's a rat, an incontinent cat?
A cup and a bit of hot water and in it a desert-spoon full of that magical powder.
Then light the gas ring and just let it simmer, for my dinner I'll have my clam chowder.
When the clients arrive I'll imply that it is they that should wake up and smell the coffee.
But I'd never say, anyway, in a day or two I will be buying the toffee.
Enjoying the sweet, sweet life, me and my new wife, we're running away.
The rest of the world may condemn us but we will not care what they say.

A single snowstorm, coast to coast,
A lot of snow to sift.
To little ones we'll proudly boast
'Twas continental drift.

The snow don't fall in summer.
It would not enjoy the heat.
To do so would be dumber
Than a vegan eating meat.

I have made coffee flavoured with toffee,
as well as cappucino, flavoured of banoffee.
Which I did, using magic spells from Zajic,
who writes tragic cosmologic poetry.
As he sits in a tree, thinking about bombastry.
And how wonderful would it be to use bombastic words.
That will be used in his poems, about a bird who's a computer nerd.
Which means he will get spurred and have to live in a herd.

My heart jumped, TT: did you mean
Zizeck, by far the most exciting and important philosopher
Currently on the scene?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhDuYfZa5dE (for example)



(Zajic was the student who self-immolated
In Wenceslas Square when Czechoslovakia was invaded
In 1968
A very important date
As all do relate -
If you missed it, you're too late, mate.)

Wake up and smell the porridge
Is my philosophy
Throw away the coffee pot
Let's have a cup of tea.

You've got four legs
I've got two
That's three for me
And three for you
My third leg
Is going soft
That's 'cus'
I dont use mine oft

I can't read it in a book.
Infallibility is a sad fallacy.
I only need to stop and look
At my own inadequacy.

But I must live in hope
Or I become too sad you see.
Think not so on morbid things.
Plan the perfect holiday.

Stocks and shares
Bulls and bears
Rising prices
Falling hairs
Wind and rain
Sin and pain
Hold my hand
Smile again.

I bought an umbrella which was edible.
(It's true, although it sounds incredible.)
We had no rain for weeks on end.
I thought, why bend against the trend?

I got three meals from that umbrella,
And then it rained. I'm one wet fella!

How doth the silly Spanish fool
Serve drinks to ladies in the pool
In the 18 to 30 club
Where he set up an English pub
Next to a bull ring, where the blood
Colours the pool when there's a flood.
Skins are so dark it does not show
Too much sun and morals so low
Mother, father, look away
Let your sons and daughters play.

There, at the far horizon, as far as I can see,
Is one for whom I've waited, by land or yet by sea.
It's not the Avon lady. It isn't Peter Pan,
Nor Santa Claus nor Jesus. It's the pizza delivery man!

Slavoj Žižek challenging words of wisdom,
with his unique insights in the fight for freedom.
The class struggle and the fight for workers interests,
with a plea to fight for the common cause, to help the poorest.
Ad if they answer the call, by their protests,
with the "politicisation of politics".
To fight against the illusion of choice,
and it's weapon of statistics.
To free people from the lies of post-politics,
that is destroying our society with it's anti-choice.
Through making the rich richer and the poor poorer.

Sycamore trees are the worst kind of weeds
And my garden is flooded with sycamore seeds
From the tree of the people who live next to me,
Which is why I keep saying 'I'm sick of your tree'.

The fairy and her children were so afraid
Of the terrible noise that the neighbours made.
So they all climbed aboard a sycamore seed.
They had heard him complain so that this was a weed.
But to them as they soured so high in the sky
Twas a circular lesson in how to fly.
Their gossamer wings grew proud and grow strong.
They were flying together, after not very long
They no longer needed help from that old sycamore.
When they found a new home they just dropped to the floor.

The sky has soured like curdled milk.
The clouds have swirled like tie-dyed silk.
The rain is pelting everywhere.
We may have to postpone the Renaissance Fayre.