Archive for the ‘Poets Toilet’ Category

Horrorville
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and I’d just caught a mouse
I teased it, I tormented it, then squashed it like a louse

I left it in a pool of blood, slain on the freshly polished floor
Raising my champagne I smirked, you won’t bother me anymore
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Odour is my companion and I really can’t pretend
That if I get too close to you, I’m likely to offend

Normally that’s okay, since I’m enclosed in a truck
If you rode inside with me, surely you would chuck

It’s not from a lack of showers, that I smell this way
The crap you discard, is what gives me this bouquet

Throw out a rotten egg and last night’s leftovers too
I see you still haven’t taught junior how to use the loo

Nothing to be embarrassed about, but I’ll be frank
The stuff you’re throwing out, is actually quite rank

Of course it’s my career, to clean up after your mess
To collect all those things that humans fail to digest

There’s scraps, there’s bottle caps and lets not forget
That I also have to pick up that poor expired pet

You’d think Rover could get a decent burial, but no
In the bin the old boy goes, along with your broken hoe

To make our mark, we need to surpass minimum wage
Yes there are a few by-products, in the disposable age

That’s the problem with society today, no one thinks
I might be the one that smells, but it’s you that stinks

There’s a boat in the water, it’s a dodgy ship
Not as stable as a waiter in a garbage tip
It’s going to the bottom of the lake real quick

The kayak we call Ship Creak

Looks sleek as speed, manoeveurs like a tug
They paddle like mad and move like a slug
Visions of stardom, brought on by a drug

Last over the line is Ship Creak

Paint sparkles in sunlight, a bogey green
The golden stripes, out of place in between
Cruising down the river, a sight obscene

Look away now, it’s Ship Creak

Last off the line does it know it’s a race?
It weaves down the river in a hopeless chase
Still going after dark, what a disgrace

What’s the point of Ship Creak

With a crack of the hull it’s in the drink
It sprung a leak, it’s about to sink
Goodbye Ship Creak, quicker than you think

The legend of the deep, Ship Creak.

The Poem That Hates Poems

Posted: January 9, 2014 in Poets Toilet

Connected words haunting
Meanings unknown
Endless claims of intellect unseen

Interpretation is everywhere
Understanding based on preference
Only self indulgence to share

Anti poets hear the call tonight
Harness your strength and unite

The literary genius’ are leaving sentences in ruin
Let’s make them clear, not leave them strew hen

Steal their pens in the darkness of night
Destroy their creations with all your might

I’m sure we could understand
If you just get to the point man

Nervous and sweating
I stand alone on the stage
My voice echoes through deaf eyes

Screaming fills no dome
A hoarse that draws no carriage

I would ask you to be silent
So that you could join me in this moment
To give thanks for your wisdom

Anti poets hear the call tonight
harness your strength and unite

I long for those beautiful sentences
That caressed my ears with their simplicity
So meaningful, so accessible to the masses
Forever lost in ambiguity and buried in art