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

...not even yet...

Against the appalling accumulation

Of a year's weathering debris, I'm off to get

Saws and boards and nails and paint and new clothing...

Thanks, by the by, for the words,

I've not forgot, my first essay dumped unexpectedly before posting.

Arrgh!!

Boards and nails can become new apparel,
Provided that they become a barrel.

...tell me about it...

This is the thread for poetry so bad,
You'd like to escape to Pitcairn Isle or Chad.

one monday morning in downtown chad
i nailed me a barrel and filled it with fat
sold it to my neighbour who had but a goat
and a wild water raft what would not float
due to the lack of water
so the goat never met their slaughter

The difference between slaughter and laughter
Is "S", which comes beforer not after.

Crossed Thread

Beware the Jabberwok and shun,
Strange entries to his work begun,
Two years ago, and though by some
In honest faith – to raise a smile,
With his inimitable style,
Of slightly mad poetic guile.

by the
Aberant Pew Addict

of course!

Great-Aunt Felicity
Saw her physician
Once every seventeen years.

Doctor O'tissity
Said, "Your condition
Is much worse than it appears.

Give up the health food.
Eat chocolate cake,
Twinkies and other such crud.

Date a psychotic dude.
Sleep on a large rake.
Twice a day roll in the mud."

Great Aunt Felicity
Fired O'Tissity.

my doc once said "look,
you can't go on like this
all this dope is going to kill you!"

but now he says "look
if you don't take this dope
there is no way for me left to save you!"

won't you make up your mind
oh dear doctor feelgood
your irresolution aint helping

The Doctor

My doctor told me I had to give up smoking,
In fact he gave me a year or less,
Saying, 'Good god you look an incredible mess'
And I say, 'Doc – it's my life and I can't live without it'.

Then a doctor said that I had to give up drinking,
Saying bluntly, 'Just lay off the booze'
I said, 'Doc – what have the hell have you got to lose,
Except me – and I can't live without it.

Then the doctor told me, I had to give up loose women,
I told him 'Doc – it might be all very easy for you,
But what do I do when I need a screw,
And anyway – I can't live without it.

So the doctor said that the choice was up to me,
I said, 'If this means leading a life like a saint,
And if you think that that's living, let me tell you it ain't,
And one day I'll die - with or without it.

by the
Aberant Pew Addict
(from a half forgotten song from years ago)

No wish to be a killjoy
But these poems, including 347 (ok>
Are a joy.
I wonder if you're doing quite what you should
Instead of being bad, these pomes are good.

But who really cares?
I'd much rather see them here than nowhere.

Jab

Typo in line two
Should read ()
But it gives me a chance to say anew
My enjoyment of 347 was good and true

may I ask you lotwhat constitutes a good or bad poem/verse ?

I see a stack of bricks being classed as art and another with rubbish round a tent(I think)and critics call it brilliant art
I'm on a different planet, co's I'd love to be there and say it's just (another word effluent)

thank you

No you mayn't
Because we ain't
The sort worry,
We're in no hurry.

My poetry not bad enough? How shocking!

Actually, I am doing all of you a favor by not unleashing the worst (i.e. most pretentious) poetry I have ever come across. One of the men who fought alongside George Washington (and later became Washington's authorized biographer) was a poet named David Humphreys. Some of his stuff makes me gag! But you wanted bad poetry, so here is what he wrote in honor of American Independence on July 4:

“To Independence, consecrate this day
Demands the tribute of my annual lay;
Protector of that gift of God Supreme,
Though Love of Country! Be this day my theme!”.

There's more, but I will save it for future posts.

It's odd how Independence Day inspires such bad verse. Here's the Aberant Pew Adict's tirade:


At eleven o’clock on the fourth of July
In seventeen seventy five
Thirteen colonies thought of a different way
For Americans how to survive

Not a word of this deed was breathed to a soul
As the gentlemen, all dressed in black
Were scared that the British would see what they’d stole
And take the whole bloody lot back

Persecution the feeling they’d had all along
Had grown as the colonies spread
To the British they felt that they did not belong
As half of the Indians were dead

Democracy now – the American style
The biggest and best you can get
All lib’rally laced with the Puritan’s guile
'In God thou shalt never forget'

With God on their side and belief in the right
To everything left in the place
They set out with zeal and all of their might
To conquer the West without grace

They slaughtered all things that got in their way
The Indians and buffalo too
And as they lay down at the end of the day
They knew t’was God’s will that they do

Having won all the land from the East to the West
They sat back and surveyed their deed
And then started out doing the thing they knew best
Grab everything else that they need

It’s odd that these people, so brave good and bold
Having shook off colonial shame
Should then declare war on the rest of the world
And do just exactly the same

THE TRAGEDY OF THE LETTUCE

O helpless little Lettuce
With your leaves so verdant green,
Nowhere else to be seen,
I weep for your fragile beauty and that is
Because They're only growing you
And feeding you
On the lettuce farm
Because they want to do you harm
And, it makes me so distressed to say,
You can't run away.

They'll kill you without kindness
Because of their money-blindness
Some vegetarian will eat you
Unbelievable, tragic, but true,
Or a meat-eater because his doctor has told him to.
O Lettuce I'm distraught for you
If I was a soldier I would to the death have fought for you.


Rev'd Cuthbert E. Risenose (B.A.Oxon)

mankind thrives on three illusions,
raise them to be true:
nationalism and religion,
racism is not new

they praise them with words
beyound comprehension
which only cause for too much tension:
verse, worse - and perverse...

Why is that fly in my soup.
To such depths no insect should stoop!
The soup's bad enough
As it is, awful stuff,
Without seasoning by insect poop.