Poetry, bloody Poetry. To be honest I have tried to write poetry of an uplifting variety. Something that will elevate the chronic condition of life and provide a glimmer of hope. Sadly, every effort results in the same depressing despond. Never mind, say I, tis a clear indication of the human condition and my response. Bugger!
A psychiatrist writes: Flaxen Saxon has many deep and unresolved issues stemming from a highly dysfunctional childhood and early family life. His psychological tumult finds expression in his brooding, nihilistic prose and poetry. This offers but a temporary respite and can no way lead to a permanent resolution of Saxon’s deep-seated and profound psychological problems.
A Flaxen Saxon replies: Fuck off Dr Fell. You only see the portion of
my psyche which I deign to reveal.I do not like you Dr Fell,
The reason why I cannot tell.
But this I know and know full well,
I do not like you, Dr Fell.
Now for more pretentious, self-indulgent and cathartic poetry. If you ain't slashing your wrists after this one, then you are already dead.
Night and day become as one,
Unrestrained grey endlessly trudges on.
Scant sense, no pleasure, no pain,
Humdrum certainty in a coarse domain.
Murky shallows, indifferent response,
Ill-defined colours of no consequence.
Toneless flows of clammy pallor,
Clumsy devices of scant veneer.
Boundless detachment and callous regard,
Pitiful retort and emotional retard.
Wilted riposte to arguments feeble,
All are damned, all is ignoble.
This day was like the last,
Stretching tedium into infinite past.
The future is but the same,
Quietly driven calmly insane.
Lengthening shadows on a windswept shore,
No sense of time in a place that is amoral.
Pity the life that remains restrained,
Pity the life that is all but drained.
Dragged slowly into eternal sloth,
On a lamed charger decked in a ragged cloth.
Limpid stance in an entropic domain,
A fool to the end and fools remain.
Why does a vision of Prosthetic Vogon Jeltz haunt my brain?
ReplyDeleteVogon poetry was much underrated. What did Ford Prefect know? Anyway, poetry is a thing to be beholden unto the heart, unless you are a pretentious twat. Wat think ye?
DeleteVogon poetry was known to be superior to two other forms. Local to me, there is a strong contender that, IMO, elevates Vogon poetry to fourth-worst. Will (after taking appropriate precautions) revisit the crime scene and report further.
Delete* Prostetnic
This particular McGonagall goes by the name R Piggott:
DeleteOpen up the minds and hearts,
at those that canna' see
not due to loss of sight, but..
man's inhumanity.
Make all aware of what we gave
for peace to reign once more
our very lives returned to dust
for there to be no more war.
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
ReplyDeleteBright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Just as nauseating although less dire.
'The Sound of Music' was deservedly savaged by the ISIRTA team in the 1960s. Perceptively, they presented the Rolf Harris Dirty Songbook, when RH had a squeaky clean image.
DeleteHave you 'read' Bonio's little 'poem'? it's a bad as the rest of his shite. See http://headrambles.com/ if you can bear it (with my attempt at a piss-take over it).
ReplyDeleteNever liked Bone head. A complete twat bolllocks.
ReplyDeleteFlaxon,
ReplyDeletePoetry is good, it lifts you up when you are feeling down. I recommend
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems
P.S. I am impressed with your Bows
Phil Simpson
Even I could not set fucker to music...
ReplyDeleteFor some reason your comment was determined as 'spam'. I think we need to be told.
Delete"Poetry, bloody Poetry. To be honest I have tried to write poetry of an uplifting variety. Something that will elevate the chronic condition of life and provide a glimmer of hope. Sadly, every effort results in the same depressing despond."
ReplyDeleteYeah but that's sheer poetry in itself.
I am a man of many parts, but sadly, none of them fit.
Delete