Extremely excellent and not at all pointless Poetries for your culture part and definitely not your cruttle hatch.
Take one or two vague poetries a day and shove them forcefully inside the top of your cultural flouter, swallow hard and then try to forget what you did and how it tasted. Just like that time you were locked in at the dog shelter overnight.
It is essential, so don't ask questions and just get on with it.
My now sutured social mouth
spitting beans
irregular
and wilful
they forget my intent
and hasten towards their own
now shuttered ambitions
and evaporative deaths
I gave up the conversations and obliterated another moth memory
Relunctantly Widowed,
never agreed
to see her wife aflame
But Relunctantly Widowed
still trod heavily
her shoes were made of wife and each weighed 32kg
fin
Ostensibly Fish,
clarified, but much reduced
looked inside herself
and found nothing
of interest
Transparency did not suit her
fin
Excelling within
a shell without
a dietrary diatribe
extolled with clout
Fell about his limp and vacant feet
Baron von Clamm refused to diet on the grounds that he was a porker
The grounds, cluttered with diatribes as they were, held their counsel
fin
Dental Negligence
is not a hippo
Despite all evidence to the contrary
fin
Prodigious underpant
in a fit of conscience
decided to wrap buttocks
in a less sinister manner
"I have sinned!" he cried
his muffled confession
went unheard and clarified nothing.
fin
I am cautiously
Ahorse
But no longer,
of course
Than a normal man standing next to a chicken.
But I'm longer
Of course
Than a cautious
horse
That no longer can stand the taste of chicken
When you are no longer
Of course
A cautious
Horse
Please get out of my kitchen
I don't like imagining reckless quadripeds in my cooking areas. Get out!*
~* Unless you are the burgler part that stole my oven! Come back please!
fin
Lungbash wasn't a cloth
but he wasn't a gate
what he sometimes wasn't,
was a wooden red eight
he didn't be wetter, or ninety minutes late
he tried not being bricked in
he was never a country fete
Lungbash was an extremely badly restored baroque bow-fronted corner cabinet with mild depression and wet legs.
fin
Fully Hilt,
gallantly untroubled,
upon withdrawing support
for sinful snails
flippantly precipitated
increased trouser sales
though leg counts had doubled
after a terrible evolution
he therefore had no actual part to play in the events outlined above
fin
Reticent oaf your lumpen refusal dissident bananas bear seed for no reason epaulettes of fear torment me in the night even amidst fruit out of season
A stride beyond his usual dominion
legs confounded, pockets compounded
incapable of valued opinion -
being so wrought
Fourth Trouser had thought,
VERY LITTLE OF NOTE,
for three hundred years.
he finished eating the moth Sadly
and sliced himself in the seat several times before hiding the body from the authorities.
(Sadly was not missed and never found)
Beefy Bob
awoke with a throb
momentarily forgetting
he was surgical swab
and was incapable of throbbing,
or lobbing
or bobbing
or describing a watermelon with accuracy
so he stabbed himself in the cloth four times before hiding the body from his colleagues at the custard farm
fin
Porrig was a jealous frog
a frog that could not see
a frog at odds
in petering bogs
because he could not be
Porrig was jealous of all the frogs
jealous of their lillies
and jealous of their logs
but the problem with Porrig
the problem you see
Was Porigg's colour matched his jealousy
Porrig was green all over himself
green in the pond
and green on the shelf
green in the toilet
and green in bed
green from his legs to the top of his head
So poor Porrig decided
to be ANGRY instead
fin
An indignant flutter
~ invidious squint ~
beneath aroused antennae
~ intentions cast as impulsions ~
do you seek to fool me, moth?
I hid your moth body twice beneath a clock
fin
Improvised vessel for my voluminous vanity
Subduer of stolen and now stationary sound
When I woke up next to a beaker
I was dismayed at what I found
Perpendicular pipe of facial wind
Misconstrued my desires
And conspired to be binned
Inside a grubby beaker
As I loomed aloft
and peered without heart
cold and oblivious like a clown in space
My oboe, once rigid musical part
rested woefully inside the grubby place
lacking sorely for facial wind, respect and a friendly aperture.
I am bereft of oboe.
fin
When pupes
fathom incorrectly
all may be lost
fin
Diligent Strokes was mocked and belittled verbally abused, and emotionally crippled ~ Despite his incredible capacity for extreme and terrible and bloody violence Diligent Strokes was afforded no room Spatially ignored, and dimensionally doomed ~ Regardless of his overtly large and sickening and terrifying physical presence Diligent Strokes was taken apart structurally menaced, and cohesively marked ~ In a stark and blatant heedless oversight of the fact that he was deliberately assembled Unbelievable, really. fin
Left behind
Like a comb
fin
Warm me in your tiny ubiquitous quantum field,
gently lick my non sweaty bod,
I deride you not with my liberal use of commas
I fear you as a god,
if we were constantly at the speed of light
I would be quite a sweaty beast,
you give mass to lucky electrons,
like a tiny floating magnetic priest,
with a 5 sigma recording
you are probably the genuine article,
Higgs boson lick my atoms
you most celebrated elementary particle
fin
Tearing asunder my friend's cod roe
I had no consideration for the plight of his toe
attached to his body but not on the leg
my friend's only option a fish with no head
but fish on the toe is not quite the cure
for misplaced appendages I am reasonably sure.
so I'm not sorry for my actions and I refuse to stop killing the moth
fin
ALL OVER MY FACE
like a finger
MY FACE IS NOT BRAILLE, MADAM
please evacuate my face
Do not linger
YOU READ ME INCORRECTLY
I am for the fully sighted and the polite only
SEE MY FACE, SEE IT CLEARLY
it is a FACE, round thing on a neck part
not a resting place for digits of the lonely!
fin
What that did at first appear an orinary dream, firmly met aflared, yet sunken (and wet) like a terribly open prostrate porpoise Later transpired to be nothing yet screams in the mist of night thin trombone of grief contorting the wind from my sack the oboe, fleeting mocks me in its absence
A recipe for the ultimate entertainment bastard.
Very large bowl required.
And a stick.
1. Two tsps of Piers Morgan to start we need a bastard who causes visual grief a man whos deathly inclusion might wet on your relief some beady, pleady eyes; some garrulous desperation the needy, wheedly cries and abject abberation two teaspoons of the purest weasley bastard is required Piers Morgan is the surest continue once aqcuired
finprostrate, flattened the tribute shifted insidious eye contact threw me I set fire to the moth carefully guilty but never beguiled fin
fate, loftily conspired
lucidity had yet fluffed those pillows
called upon like some pavement.
with a face lacking grip, stability (and litter)
he expected very little from that encounter
setting fire to the moth was the only way out
sorry
Furious Milk happened by chance to mend his shoe after committing his aunts who had both become irretrievably and fundamentally insane earlier.. Furious Milk broke his blisters tripping upon bacon after killing his sisters who had both become inexplicably and copiously herbivore Furious milk smashed his sandals cracked upon bones running on vandals who had both purposefully and malevolently desecrated his brothers graves Furious milk wet his socks uncontrollably laughing dancing in smocks which had both belonged profusely and incapably to his mother Furious milk ended his life realisation dawning insanity was rife in a family all now inescapably and vigorously dead fin
When all is not quite as it seems Soy sauce on your face Isn't as pleasant as you might deem For a brown quality liquid You could do a lot worse But resting on my face Is not the customary place For for a sauce-based liquid or even a purse. A cat on my hand Would be less out of place Than a brown salty liquid Resting on my face Am I a freak destined to watch life through the locked bars of insanity for the rest of my days or was the woman just joking? So please get off my face Go and find a sushi to rest on If you don't aquiesce I will soak you up to death with a napkin. fin
And she did shout and curse out loud What would you have me do now, o Sea? Latvian sea that could not be The sea remained silent For it could not see A wise course of action for the young beserk And what of you, young crab of red? crab that scuttles, over the shallow sea bed The crab that existed only in the mind and head of a young and deranged creature Who's sanity had long since fled ~That the crab would hold its counsel again confirmed There was no answer to her maniacal bewailings Would you have me kill again, O latvian frog? Frog found squished, in the petering bog Frog with capacity for inciting such interrogation An imaginary creature that hails from a frogless nation The frog's reticence only confirmed The killing again plan was most coldly affirmed fin
when phil collins trod on my foot with his leg of drumming and his shoe of faith this treader of toe this invader of space did cry unto my legs did stare at my face who is this musical foe this lyrical clodhopper this stepper on toe this deaf drummer of lore this prog-rock mofo? this questionable cockerny this despoiler of chukkers These questions remain unanswered to this day, and it is for this reason that when he offers to take me to paradise I am not altogether sure.
A seal named Gerrard
with his fins upon the floor
swam accross my slumber
and thought he saw much more
sleeping in human form
he misconstrued my needs
swapping my spine for a curly bracket
despite my plaintive pleas
I live not on a keyboard!
I counselled him wisely
But all I said was sadly in vain
as he told me nicely
you resemble in my eyes
some sort of punctuation
you're clearly mad, you're no more human
than I am oceanic crustacean
I killed him and set fire to the body before realising that I was probably going to be stuck this way for life.
fin
Wouldst thou discredit me with your fibs? A man with features taken from instrument I little understood what he but meant "Wouldst thou buy my frogs?" "Your nose is a trumpet?" "Wouldst thou buy my socks? "Your mouth reedy clarinet!" "Circumcise your insensitive jibes, and speak of business matters alone, lest I strike you down like a weasel earthquake!" my suspicion allayed as warm concrete batter (with no apparent incline) I would buy many elements it would be to flatter to assign any real function trinkets, a trifle, a bibelot "This molecule scraper, it lacks for a handle" "Mine pancreas resembles a hammond organ?" "Your vibrating paintbursh, perhaps missold?" "You of weakened wit may not comprehend functions beyond your field, desist your ignoble ignominy and cease your libellous leakage, lest I smite you as a bongo botherer" It was thus I was misled bereft of money and reputation (that I deserved mostly) laughed out of town home and even yet police station "His face was banjolele!" "You speak asunder." "His eyes flaps of tamborine" "Your insolence a wonder. Cease your witterings lest I set about you like a warren-full of beavers. Get out!" It was thus I learned I was irretrievably, inescapably insane.
Lying down, unregarded
(like a crumb)
Salient Michael, a man fully broken
no longer relevant to any, but
oaf, simpleton, cretin or newsagent
rather than change his name
slowly died on top of the transponder
fin
a tin I found on a mat one day contained little more than egg and dismay it stiffed me up with it's lid of misleading resting atop metal lip like a robotic moustachioed ceiling like one of my socks you contain no biscuits AND I HATE YOU upon inspection the following week the tin contained some egg and some leek I had been wrong all along so I killed myself and set fire to the tin thirty times fin
O Teet of fear why rustle my ear I cannot hear your lamentations! like a naked shark your disconsolate hark is confusing and frightening in equal measure your anguished cries wet not my eyes I am deaf to your muffled agitations! oblivious to your plaint I have yet to acquaint the cause of your grief I see no relief like a murderous elephant in a balloon, you confuse and frighten me in equal measure oh Teet of fear with your murderous howl please be more Teet and relax on the foul until my fear is no longer fully realised
As I floated back down to the point, the point I had left very much aggrieved my projected ambivalence had been quite rude the antipathy there, I had not conceived it seemed I hadn't actually murdered the point there and then I felt casually relieved - (like a urination in a sports jacket) I celebrated on Tony's meat face, she is the pizza-cake I grew up with before I turned out this way The point I returned to after my physical absence broadened in my vision like an elaborate spot I felt quite secure the point had survived but as I landed aground I saw it had not the point my ambivilance had surely offended had packed it's bags and gone for a trot I started to panic and I cut up a local wren that had seen everything and was giving it large
Woken from induced mollification
lairy wren, frothing, quoth him
I am committed to danger!
I will lay my bloody wings upon thee!
my wings will chaos arrange her
sadly his sentence was lost and sounded very similar to some insanity
he established a colony in my kidney
he smoked a pipe in my horror-show
when the tobacco, moistend, fell out and about
interesting bibilots were fashioned below
sadly they looked like droppings from a fevered nought and smelt much like some insanity
fin
It was early in the day yet late in the morning when buttocky feelings soon came dawning In a strange place of waking a nervousness accame dry humping my head spawning shame What happens to buttocks during the night When buttockless legs are resting without sight They multiply and sing But not at the same time that would be weird guy Straight down the line My buttock was inside me Nestling my kidney Singing out of tune What sounded like Whitney What followed thereafter I recount with a shudder I defecated my buttock I passed it asunder fin
Cheese: my friend, my food; errant from my plate cheese of blue and hairy hue won't you stop crying and come back to my plate? You used to be there right next to the biscuit biscuit of brown and inescapable frown biscuit that goes all the way down (eventually to my bottom parts). Come back to me, cheese, I'll treat you right Try not to eat you or force you to fight the Quiche or the biscuit, or fridge cheese container parts I might eat a bit, would that be OK? If you say no, that's totes OK. fin
Leak, get out of my bucket! Leak, your natural role in the universe as vegetable, destined for soup pot clutch at ye with this misunderstanding! Attempting to force water from my bucket Don't you understand, leak? THAT IS THE WRONG TYPE OF LEAK please It is time to adjust yourself to the correct
A man with ladder,
a stepped contrivance
wooden and bold
enabling defiance
of land based arguments
and rungs too old
fist nor foot able to hold
(even if you used chalk)
quickly decided to end it's life
The man with the ladder,
an evil device
wrathful and mighty
was gripped in a vice
a vice of iron
tightened with shame
to a point where breathing was a bit of a pain
(even if you used a bicycle pump)
quickly decided to plead for mercy
A corpse's ladder,
an apparition allayed
fugacious vice killer
rungs bloodily sprayed
As if in prayer
the Gods answered not
former owner's head now tied in a knot
decided to hold his counsel
fin
Berlusconi was licking a pony which he thought resembled some fraud but a kinky tycoon addicted to poom poom will almost certainly fall off and break an eyelid if he isn't careful Berlusconi was holding a party gripping it tight round the neck an ex-prime minister with trousers quite sinister may well irritate the People of freedom and its right wing chums if he isn't a bit careful Berlusconi was addressing a crowd trying to find a big stamp a corporate lord will inevitably get bored perhaps undressing them would be a more sensible approach, if of course you are careful with the zip parts Berlusconi was coming back from the dead without even using a map. even a priapic zombie with less integrity than romney may lose to Bersani's Democratic Party coalition which could lead to a shaky coalition government, and a hung Parliament. If he isn't careful. fin
your tiny beady eyes gripping, squinting, blinking consternation like belligerent rectums, forced to yield, to inexorable defecation flicking across that porcine brow envince a closed uncompromising perspective Your eyes may as well be noughts and join your faecal emitting aperture collective
Provocatively positioned
Precariously perched
Armpit Boris
lairily lurched
falteringly flailing
and dangerously decorating
resting atop ladder
mistakenly masturbating
Crushing his christmas
with daredevil decisions
Armpit Boris
lacking in luck
fell to his death
destroying a duck
and slowly died on top of a new carpet
epilogue
OH WOE, woe is me!
he certainly cried
before remembering his deathly condition
at which point he held his counsel
and lay there
until february the 3rd whereupon his occasional pet cat Graham
found him and licked his nose carelessly.
fin
fermenting gently
on definite parts of his brain
Nascent thoughts brewing
not entirely made of sane
struck wonderously affirmed
"I will not kill again!"
cried the dangerous caterpillar
Then he killed the moth four times and set fire to the body again
which just goes to show, really.
fin
And Psires wept and wailed and wheezed
and cursed out loud
his unsatisfactory knees!
each and every season
it was said he became
not a lot unlike
a very unlikely reason
(like a dehydrated fish in the sea)
And he didn't fit or match or please
his legs and his feet
were more relevant than his knees
which were said to leak tizer
and renovate peas
but what psires was
was a very wooly reason
(like a failing bicep in a breeze)
Applied to an effect, an outcome or a meal
Psires fitted not
and sadly wasn't real
he lacked any sense
(and an ability to kneel)
so he killed himself and set fire to the body three times before disappearing forever
fin
freshly dug up potato
O nameless fellow of the soil
tell me do you have a soul
do your mourn your peaty bed?
your silence speaks in volume
I really hate it when I find myself in these situations
I will eat your face gently
then set fire to myself in shame
fin