Posted on 04/27/2012 10:23:27 AM PDT by Charles Henrickson
‘To Ma Own beloved Lassie. A poem on her 17th Birthday.
By Ewan McTeagle
Lend us a couple of bob till Thursday.
I’m absolutely skint.
But I’m expecting a postal order and I can pay you back as soon as it comes.
Love Ewan.
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Ζω σε MPLS, ακούω Ani DiFranco και ψήφισα για Cynthia McKinney κατά την τελευταία προεδρική εκλογή. Είμαι μέλος της αντιπολεμικής επιτροπής (. Org) και στο χρόνο μου που είναι λιγότερο από το δωρεάν είδη παντοπωλείου τσάντα μου σε τοπικά φαγητά μου co-op. Θεωρώ ότι η ποίηση είναι μια παράσταση που βασίζεται, μέσο αφήγησης, έτσι ώστε τα περισσότερα από τα πράγματά μου είναι προφορικό λόγο. Για μένα, η τέχνη και ο ακτιβισμός είναι το ίδιο πράγμα.
“We’re hoping they take her away,
‘Hoping they take her away .... take her today!”
I didn’t understand a single word of it. It was just stream of consciousness stuff.
They sure as hell aren't worth feeding. The pictures of them, with the light in their eyes being the Sun, shining through the backs of their heads...
Grunthos the Flatulent was the poetmaster of the Azgoths of Kria, writers of the second worst poetry in the universe, coming between the third, the Vogons, and the first, Paul Neil Milne Johnstone.
The guide recites a tale of how, during one of his readings of his poem four of the audience died of internal hemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived only by gnawing one of his own legs off.
He was disappointed by the reception of his poem and so prepared to read his 12-book epic but was prevented from doing so when his small intestine leapt up his neck and throttled his brain in a desperate bid to save life and civilization, killing him.
http://hitchhikers.wikia.com/wiki/Grunthos_the_Flatulent
...Which always brings us back to Maya Angelou.
Vogon poetry is mild in comparison.
How is that a poem? It’s just a rambling of incoherent thoughts, an assorted few which she managed to rhyme. I know the “artsy” libs will say that the problem is that we just aren’t sophisticated enough to understand and appreciate the artistry of it, but I say that it isn’t that we’re too dumb, it’s that we’re too smart. We’re too smart to see such “poetry” as art.
Oh flundered gruntbuggly, thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee
That mordiously hath bitled out its earted jurtles
Into a rancid festering [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts
And living glupules frart and slipulate like jowling meated liverslime
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don’t.
I rather liked it.
Sometimes I just wish that whole site was parody and satire, but it’s not.
lol. You are FAR FAR too kind.
up twinkles...
I think?
whatever it means
(Laughs out loud) Well done!
Whew! It's over!
Better than Maya Angelou.
“The Great Franchise Demonstration
Dundee, 20th September 1884”
“‘Twas in the year of 1884, and on Saturday the 20th of September,
Which the inhabitants of Dundee will long remember
The great Liberal Franchise Demonstration,
Which filled their minds with admiration.
Oh! it was a most magnificent display,
To see about 20 or 30 thousand men all in grand array;
And each man with a medal on his breast;
And every man in the procession dressed in his best.
The banners of the processionists were really grand to see-
The like hasn’t been seen for a long time in Dundee;
While sweet music from the bands did rend the skies,
And every processionist was resolved to vote for the Franchise.
And as the procession passed along each street,
The spectators did loudly the processionists greet;
As they viewed their beautiful banners waving in the wind,
They declared such a scene would be ever fresh in their mind.
The mustering of the processionists was very grand,
As along the Esplanade each man took his stand,
And as soon as they were marshalled in grand array,
To the Magdalen Green, in haste, they wended their way.
And when they arrived on the Magdalen Green,
I’m sure it was a very beautiful imposing scene-
While the cheers of that vast multitude ascended to the skies,
For the “Grand Old Man,” Gladstone, the Hero of the Franchise,
Who has struggled very hard for the people’s rights,
Many long years, and many weary nights;
And I think the “Grand Old Man” will gain the Franchise,
And if he does, the people will laud him to the skies.
And his name should be written in letters of gold :
For he is a wise statesman- true and bold-
Who has advocated the people’s rights for many long years;
And when he is dead they will thank him with their tears.
For he is the man for the working man,
And without fear of contradiction, deny it who can;
Because he wishes the working man to have a good coat,
And, both in town and country, to have power to vote.
The reason why the Lords won’t pass the Franchise Bill :
They fear that it will do themselves some ill;
That is the reason why they wish to throw it out,
Yes, believe me, fellow citizens, that’s the cause without doubt.
The emblems and mottoes in the procession, were really grand,
The like hasn’t been seen in broad Scotland;
Especially the picture of Gladstone- the nation’s hope,
Who is a much cleverer man than Sir John Cope.
There were masons and ploughmen all in a row,
Also tailors, tenters, and blacksmiths, which made a grand show;
Likewise carters and bakers which was most beautiful to be seen,
To see them marching from the Esplanade to the Magdalen Green.
I’m sure it was a most beautiful sight to see,
The like has never been seen before in Dundee;
Such a body of men, and Gladstone at the helm,
Such a sight, I’m sure, ‘twould the Lords o’erwhelm.
Oh! it was grand to see that vast crowd,
And to hear the speeches, most eloquent and loud,
That were made by the speakers, regarding the Franchise;
While the spectators applauded them to the skies.
And for the “Grand Old Man” they gave three cheers,
Hoping he would live for many long years;
And when the speeches were ended, the people’s hearts were gay,
And they all dispersed quietly to their homes without delay.”
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