Vogon Poetry Contest

Mea Culpa, but I Plead not Guilty. Safe at home, it was an ordinary day. I was on PoetrySoup, reading poems, page by page. And then, the house shook, I ran outside, and to my surprise a light, shining down from the sky, lifted me off the grass. Darkness is all I remember next, no couch, no text. And then a Vogon voice cooing in the black uttered syllables full of malice sending shivers down my back: “Vogon Voigon, Vogon Voigon, Diip’L Diip’L Space Goyn’gone, noi escase ynda Diip’L Space Fingletipslytch, noilbedrytch, brub brub brub Vogon Voigon, Vogon Voigon, Diip’L Diip’L Space k’Rrak-tothruut, hutdryl-buz riz riz riz moiff-braq, braq guud, shreemy ynda Diip’L Diip’L Space Vogon Voigon, Vogon Voigon, Goyn’gone Goyn’ gentle-nittle gentle-nittle expoi expoi noi escase” I needn’t state my fear to you, nor how my heart turned cold. I’m sure you understand how the Vogon stirred my soul, blended it. I tried to stay resolute insouciant to the Vogon’s noisome use of minatory morphemes, but I felt them creep in, crepuscular, prowling the twilight of my consciousness, their vowels staring at me like eyes. The Vogon vowels, Vogon vowels, Vogon vowels. I tried to shut my ears, tried not to hear the rhadamanthine trenchant chant, but my wrists held fast in adamantine bonds, my ears as unreachable as acnestis. My thoughts, my words, were blurring, becoming more obscure. My paranoia pulsed as my metanoia pushed, my will to resist seeming fatuous, as I slowly succumbed to a meretricious delight in the vile Vogon’s exerable verse. I would like to tell you that I escaped, for I am back at home, on my couch writing poems, but there is noi escase noi escase noi escase from the Diip’L Diip’L Space February 9, 2025 Vogon Poetry Contest, sponsor: Sotto Poet