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

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
If you had their life
You would be too.

Actually, violets are not blue.
'Blue moon, I saw you standing alone.'
Violet moon, I saw you standing alone!
Not the same is it?

One man's verse is another man's version.
I'm not sure why I wrote this discursion.
Bored maybe, but I am not blue.
Trapped in this word play.
What can I do?

Gaze at a rose, whatever the colour.
Red, yellow, magenta, I'm roused from my dolour.
From this tiresome verbiage I must find an ending.
So this treatise on herbiage I am finally sending.
Farewell floral friends, if parting brings sorrow
I'll send you a rose, maybe, sometime, tomorrow.


Next..Inanity!

Some days, I confess, I feel most inane.
I dance in the rain, in a plain deep in Spain.
I try to catch moonbeams, or paint with fresh butter.
The men in white coats come; they think I'm a nutter.

Next topic:

In Narnia. [The real town in Italy, or C S Lewis's imaginary land]

In Narnia
They eat banarnias


bricks

Bricks that fly at Krazy Kats.
Blame them all on wee Ignatz.

Next topic: solar trains that run slower in cloudy weather.

I once took a ride on a solar train,
It did strange things to my solar brain.
Like an ant in a rant I puff and I pant
On the days when the sun shines brightly.
So I look for the shade in the mess I have made
And recharge my cells neatly each nightly.


Next...a snaffle to curb Paul's imagination!

If you want to baffle
A horse, use a snaffle.
You can win it in a raffle,
But above all, be ca'ful.

Next topic:

A huge cloud of flying dandelion seeds.

http://images.google.co.uk/images?hl=en&resnum=0&q=dandelion+seeds&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&resnum=1&ct=title
ashoo ashoo ashoo
where art thou winters breeze
ashoo ashoo ashoo
damned this summer sneeze
ashoo ashoo ashoo
tablets don't work either
ashoo ashoo ashoo


Next topic:

Another huge cloud of flying dandelion seeds.

My neighbor's lawn, a yellow sea,
Has since turned into white,
As dandelions mightily
Send seedlings into flight....

Next topic: Singing the hot summer blues.

It's cold and it's wet
And it's mid-winter here,
I wish it was hot,
I'd enjoy a cold beer.
I can't really sing
And I'm not really blue,
And it's not really summer.
Bummer!
So why am I writing
These cold winter words?
I'll just leave the songs
To the cold winter birds.


Next..Up is better!

‘Up is better’ – a load of twaddle,
Try ‘up the creek’, without a paddle.
Does ‘up yours’ mean, ‘have a better time’?
Does ‘up to my neck’, mean that life’s sublime?

Tot up the profits and write down the loses,
Look down on the poor yet look up to the bosses,
When your time is up, only then can you tell,
Whether up is heaven, or down is hell.


Next: sunday afternoons

Because they occur to any old buffoon
When writing about Sunday afternoons
Avoid the obvious - moon, June or gloom


Oh sh*t





Next: Life

Life

Why is it, when I’m about to die
Does something say “This we’ll deny.
Go back to life, there’s things undone,
‘Til all’s complete you cannot come”?
The silence - darkness is complete,
But some small voice within me speaks.
And when I then return to life,
The manic rantings of my wife,
The bitter chaos of the world,
The lies, the cheating all unfolds.
What is it that I’m meant to do?
See someone and say “I need you”?
I’ve tried to live life decently,
I’ve made mistakes – that I can see.
I’ve made dreams work – so many ways,
The rich get richer – I just pay.
And then a man with nothing more,
Than life, experience, peace and war.
Says “Why don’t you just come and see,
Something that’s been denied to me?”
We climb the roof of Dar Al Beida,
Look down and see life – not Al Qeda
A City – steeped in manic trade
History? Money’s to be made.
Why do we have to break it all?
Can’t stop the endless strife?
Can’t be at peace with life?

Drunks

The guy ahead of me has some nerve.
From lane to lane I see him swerve.
Is he a pothead, angry punk,
Or someone who is much too drunk?

Next: Where did I put those keys?

There is a land locked beneath the ice of the Arctic sea
Full of lost wallets, lost tickets and lost keys:
There's a land too of lost ballpoint pens not far away -
They both shall be revealed when it all melts away.



drink

, .. . .. . You guys are crazy as a Bat. ...
................. .. To that I will doff my Hat, ...
................. .. and I will drink to that........
.... See I am a poet and don't know it!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oooooups.. Next word.....

Postcards ................................. , .. . . .. ... .

Postcards

I once received a postcard,
Sent from Burton-upon-Trent,
Informing me that great-aunt May,
Had had an accident.

The postman read it carefully,
Then slid it neath the door,
It lay there with the other junk,
That litters the hall floor.

But then I got another,
From her husband uncle Jack,
This tilme the postman knocked the door -
The edge was trimmed with black.

Next - Epitaphs!

LYING ALBERT'S EPITAPH

here lies lying albert
a liar all his life
to pretty girls he was fancy-free
to the plain he had a wife

he'd say your house was burning down
just to see you worried sick
oh yes, he did love lying
he never missed a trick

he'd say that he were rich an' such
and never had no fear
his lies they grew worse every day
and far worse every year

but a bloke in blackpool got irate
and threw him off the pier
- he had to stop his lying life
'cos now he's lying here

swimming

Swimming

I did like swimming in the sea,
Happy, carefree as could be,
Til someone said, ‘You silly git,
That’s where all the fishes s**t.”

Sailing

Fish do it
Cats do it
Even constipated rats do it
Let's do it
Let's go sailing and let's sh*t in the sea.


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