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Best Vogon Poems

Below are the all-time best Vogon poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of vogon poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Vogon poems, articles about Vogon poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Vogon poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

New Vogon Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Vogon poems are below this new poems list.

The Stars Of A Beautiful Constellation by Crisci, Andrew
Over Mine by lama, barun
WORST DAY by Rodrigues, Kim
Different faces: by Wolf, White
Is the Church Moving by Ihekuna, Chimezie
Money by Fields, Justin
Love by mabaso, ayanda

View all new Vogon Poems

The Best Vogon Poems

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Hotwired the orgasmatron
headed out on sixty-nine
know there’s nothin up ahead
and even less behind.
Pagination, pixilation
nothing seems to work
maybe just  I’m gettin old
maybe just a jerk
off that is
gee whiz
can’t ya take a joke?
Lost in smoke
years since last toke 
days since last drink
I think.
As ya'll can see
rhyme don't agree 
with me, 
so back to blank 
slate, mate
and the cheque's 
on you.
Iambic to the core
commonman’s  snore
such a bore.
Straight from the soul
infinite whole
or is that hole,
wasn’t  this 
supposed to be 
Never know
have to go

Copyright © Dave Will | Year Posted 2014

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Different faces:

The days so few and far and in-between,
Loneliness I never knew has captured my soul,
The sweet smell of her hair I remember so well,
But even with her, I was never quite whole.

My nights too are lonely and blue,
Memories fading into the distance again,
How do I abide when all my youth I have spent,
In taverns and bars with occasional friends.

Nobody warned me I'd be sitting alone,
I guess I always figured, life just goes on,
So here I sit contemplating my fate,
Wondering all the time where did I go wrong.

Interpreting meanings that make no sense,
Floundering my time in various places,
Never seeing the light that shines so bright,
When I look into the mirror I see different faces.

There is a spark but it will not ignite,
There are steps but they have no spring,
Lost in the ocean just one of mankind,
Like a prayer that cannot sing.

Copyright © White Wolf | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Christmas day on planet E
each pine tree
deliciously planted

the sky is tinsillated, stars replaced by screwy bulbs

and to top it all off – mind you, like a cherry on top

a fat man in a red suit is flying through outer space

a  U N I V E R S A L  catastrophe 

Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.



get a load of this
utah backward is a sneeze
forgive me utes, please

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2014

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.


I will not play this for the rest of my days
Their is nothing to gain
All done in vain
You got what you came for
I know who you are
The victory is yours 
We will live with our scar
We will pass through this darkness into the light
and leave you behind...Hopefully......You will do what is right......

Copyright © Ninette Carey | Year Posted 2014

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Vogon poem

Vogon Love Poem attempt NO. 1

I lay here alpaisd
my ugataala resting on your terangela
held captive
by your radiant pherisloosums
listening to you kyrroud rhythmical snrootum
dmyeluc of loocatagle
if only I had some of the blankets

Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2015

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Pshhhhhhh Tckkk

I've been working really hard.
And I haven't done a thing.
The answer to the riddle isn't signaled with a ding.

Professions and confessions leave the door a bit ajar.
I've traveled many places, I've not gotten very far.
The only way to get there must be high up on a star.
Maybe someday I'll find my way with my human radar.

The endless dream of inhibition.
A life long scheme with no ambition.
An entry of just one submission.
To catch that big one while your fishn'.

What is the point of rambling on.
If it's still dark upon the dawn.
And clouds foreshadow yesterday.
Repeating everything you say.

I now have come to understand.
Why an Ostrich hides itself in sand.
It's not because it is afraid.
But maybe just needs some cool shade.

What image can an artist show.
To make the viewer ever know.
The vision that was born within.
That they look for with that sly grin.

Where does the end begin this time.
As I keep searching on in rhyme.
Awaiting a slight glimpse ahead.
To come alive before I'm dead.

Copyright © robert johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

An ode to Jenni Mann

Oh an ode to jenni mann 
To write an ode, oh an ode to jenni mann
Would be good, and proper. 

Fitting, not like the clothes your distant aunty gets you.
They never fit. 
Unlike writing an ode, oh an ode to jenni mann.

When the plutonian shores of my heart wash asunder my sadness and heart-ache at your loss
I shall endeavour to beware the boars who gnash without remorse- they do make me cross
Their eyes filled with the darkness of the Forest of Dean
But who is the Dean? The Dean of a University? A cathedral perhaps?
Or is his name simply Dean Fitting?

We had weed cakes. 
The amnesia induced seizure did not please ya 
Nor did it ease ya into loving me 
Perhaps if I had sherbet it'd be different.
Sherbet? or Sherbert? I'm not a gambling man
I shouldn't have left you in your seizure jenni, i shouldn't have left you

Now you're dead. 
And there's no amount of sherbe(r)t in the world that can bring you back to my nest of sexual decadence
My quagmire of lust is brown and hollow - like an easter egg, only there is no joy here jenni. 
There is no fun to be had without you, all I can now do is reminisce of sherbe(r)t, boars, seizures and ill-fitting clothes
I am stuck in a perpetual state of limbo, I failed to beware the burn, I am in an ever self-sustaining maelstrom of torment and sexual grief

I am no longer, 

Copyright © Behe Moth | Year Posted 2014

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Migel your habs

                               Migel your habs cruggled to a stone
                              In Hoppsberry he frailed a rubbingone
                         Dan Shane and Mirrabelene snogged the day
                                    Upon the fritful Lubbenderry

                                   So the Bennets grubbed a ree
                                For queen Lodd who went for a tee
                         Mill Flogginben flonked in the month of May
                                Slurpped berrettidos for cabalerry

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2015

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

for the world

I wrote alit from the mine
the turkey not a mind
of digging the best out of a hole
to get the liver the heart and the neck
and stuffing you must be out of your mind
thank you did it all thank you my last word
a tralala give me a party only me invited
at your no sense know a full moon

Copyright © catherine labeau | Year Posted 2015

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Ode 32 111 102 32 97 32 98 97 108 108 32 111 102 32 115 110 111 116

See, see the splurptious sky
Marvel at its big Mauve depths.
Tell me, dingle, do you
Wonder why the Aardvark ignores you?

Why its foobly stare
makes you feel Crappy.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your crumbobulous facial growth

That looks like
A Rotten fish.
What's more, it knows
Your flarpgurgle potting shed

Smells of a ball of snot.
Everything under the big splurptious sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm aliens?

Copyright © Rick Eichelberg | Year Posted 2014

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.


I AM _____???

Copyright © ur mom | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Is the Church Moving

He has been born with the power to control
He sees the things around him are in a row
He observes what those things are meticulously
He thinks of best ways to make use of them technically
He devises various means to reach the aim
He makes mistakes to bring the tame
He gets what he desires
He puts to practice getting the things he admires
He gets the catch:
‘i’m in charge’
He has really come of age
He is the man image

Copyright © Chimezie Ihekuna | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.


love is based on love you do not need to bag someone to love you can start by loving your self.                       love,love ,love. the os no meaning of love ..love is  known in all diferent ways love is expresed in diferant forms .                          family is one  of the  important people you may love.you can not live your life without family beeng a part of it .                     no one can teach you how to love you just have to find it your self.

Copyright © ayanda mabaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Sophie's Sofa

An elusive pedestal amidst the lights darkens the lounge
And many drink with a glittering eye of scorn
And the snickers only make the room spin faster
And indifferent fingers fashion you forlorn
But you can't help but notice that strange caster

There upon the sofa
That impossible being feeding off her little bird
Flings a silhouette in the brittle blight 
Every sickness is now blurred
It looks upon you before taking flight

Copyright © Sam Blake | Year Posted 2015

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Doors of the Subconscious

The beat of the music is knocking from the radio.
It tries to enter her subconscious but the door there won't open. 
She has to finish the lunches; then vacuum; sponge the kitchen floor
 And now it's time to go to the gym. 
She does this three times a week Tuesday and Thursday at the same time, 11:00 in the morning and Saturday's at 1:00 pm. 
Two hours of resistance training. 
She does a circuit, her circuit. 
It is a well planned routine, It is her routine. 
It will keep her fit and toned and alive for a few extra years.

As she drives to her workout the radio is knocking again. Knocking, softly, gently at the door that guards the stories she won't talk about.  
The places she won't go to and those things that she forbids herself to do.

Copyright © Daniel Biocchi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.




Copyright © James Lennim | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Astral Projectionist

At the edges of synapse
The now of the being
Is a flame of thought
Some chemical dream
Drawing on physics
To divine understanding
A semblance of self
Formed slanted recantings
That are then broadcast
Through the spaces around
And remisinterpreted
By witness and crown
But the mind is quantum
And straddles the bounds
Of the 3rd and the 4th
In dimensional grounds
It’s best to not look
Or they will look back
These beings of light
Defined by the black

Copyright © andy thomson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Money is a bad thing
but it could be good
like donating to the poor
so they could have more
But it could be bad.....
like people worshiping money
and being selfish
money could be cruel 
but they who have it
it may not be you 
but listen if you don't have that much money
people will not be wicked
you may get married
just because of the money
but you want someone 
that loves you for who you are
not of what you have....
-Justin Fields

Copyright © Justin Fields | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.


third worst in the universe
spinning out of control
out of control




really bad…i know

Earth date:  12/13/2016

Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2016

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.



clatter of antimatter
alien dishes splatter
(the shape of spaceships)

     his antennas* whir with rising
     he considers going wireless

a dish flying at warp speed
like a zillion cyclonic bats
(female Vogon shriek encapsulated by rage)

     the creaming of eggs
     the earth took a beating
     (local yokels evaporating)**

the pounding of this poem
pretty bad prose
destruction of the first and second worst verse

     because everyone knows a Vogon
     must clink and clank
     on its dink and dank typewriter***

the third worst clatter of antimatter
mama Vogon whisks their deadpan bottoms
if you think your kids make noise
you’ve never heard a Vogon cry

D…o….n, well f…i…n…i…t,

Fingers smack on each key, pounding little hammers.
Zip..(return carriage)
How oh how did those earthlings type with these
Zip…(return carriage)
But this is rather priceless after earth’s fiasco

Shadow Hamilton’s The Noise contest

*American television show depicted a martian with antennas
that would rise from his head “My Favorite Martian”

**Local yokels – an inhabitant of a particular locale

***Everyone knows that a Vogon doesn’t know the “meaning”
of the Universe (or words for that matter)

Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Over Mine

You hold my hand
Fingers crossed over mine

Told me that we will be fine
Fingers crossed over mine

Smiled and kissed me on my head
Fingers crossed over mine

Gave me a feeling very warm
Arms crossed over mine

Kept your head on my shoulder
Arms crossed over mine

Gave your love wonderful and kind
Tears drop over mine

Hold your breath and so will i
Tears drop over mine

Setting sun will rise
Your shoulder over mine

Kissed me every moment and every time
Your lips over mine
Your lips over mine.

Copyright © barun lama | Year Posted 2017

Details | Vogon Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Stars Of A Beautiful Constellation

If we had the brilliance of stars,
we wouldn't be joyless beings.

We'll ask the somber moon to tell us tales,
and forever under her charm, we'll be listening...
explaining that existence is an exhilarating feeling;
only the unlearned can't understand where it ends.
Surely, the scientists figured out its beginnings
with mere notions that many are rejecting.

Can we ever be 
the stars of a beautiful
constellation and be grand?
Yes, earthlings seek worlds
that stir their curious mind
and their adventurous soul!

written on 5/ 11/ 2017

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2017