Poetry

Poetry meme stolen from hayzil.

Post a poem that means something to you.

Slough by John Betjeman

Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!

Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.

Mess up the mess they call a town—
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week a half a crown
For twenty years.

And get that man with double chin
Who'll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women's tears:

And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.

But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It's not their fault that they are mad,
They've tasted Hell.

It's not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio,
It's not their fault they often go
To Maidenhead

And talk of sport and makes of cars
In various bogus-Tudor bars
And daren't look up and see the stars
But belch instead.

In labour-saving homes, with care
Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
And dry it in synthetic air
And paint their nails.

Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales.

or alternatively

An adventurous girl called McGill
Tried a dynamite stick for a thrill
They found her vagina
In North Carolina
And bits of her tits in Brazil

More Poetry Meme

Some other stuff, by John Hegley...


Tuna Day (for the USA) 

I say tewna, you say toona
I say happy new year,
You say happy new year
I say Cuba is a democracy worthy of
recognition and respect...


My doggie don't wear glasses

my doggie don't wear glasses
so they're lying when they say
a dog looks like its owner
aren't they


A Somewhat Absent Minded Attempt to Be Politically Correct
 
Someone I don't know that well
tells me they have a little boy.
"Oh yes," I enquire, "and how old is he or she?"


Love poem by my dog 

 I saw you in the park
I wanted to be your friend
I tunnelled my snout
up your non-barking end


Amoeba
 
hello amoeba I wish you were my pet
but you're not really big enough to be seen by the vet
are you?
you're a little blob of jelly
you've got no skin and bone
you're not a boy you're not a girl
and you're not on the telephone
I cannot get in touch with you
I cannot pull your leg
you look a bit like a fried egg
you're a long way down the ladder
that evolution trod
but you can eat with your feet
or to be more discreet
obtain food with your pseudopod
and you don't have to have a partner
to start a family
you can multiply by dividing
tra-la-la-la-lee
you don't get up in the morning
because you never go to bed
you've not got any genitalia
but you've got other bits instead
I saw you down the microscope
when I was just a lad
I told my mum about you
and then I told my dog
you're not heterosexual bisexual
transvestite transsexual
lesbian or gay
but you seem to do okay
it isn't rude to be an amoeba
in the nude
is it eh?
you're not so simple
you little protoplasmic pimple