Best Vogon Poems

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...

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sniggle snarp to the i flee
frumple fram to me and ye

hearts a croom and eyes a breen
word from mouthy to me queen...

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Christmas day on planet E
each pine tree
deliciously planted
uprooted

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...

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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...

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The rimpledeeduggs klacklety splatt britly floaming,
Ere flamping drakkurz snazzle at elvitty gloaming;
Yon jamweezy wudderslimps gamwracks smotly crawling,
Hoytaling pagartrimps flotlessly wrothful in bawling!

Beete stell ere yethle flagorns craithen yere eise,
Ort smoothle yourn mithredoons bakk toon codry skize;
Bodryluntz quidups moost stupuddle cudgely pierdax,
And zakkertic flibboots wraithling in yert tardly tracks!...

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Flammer Me Gimbels #42
(a Vogon Pirate poem)

Flammer me gimbels, me trimbels and dromies,
Whenceforth I caminal scrabbit thy foamies.
Jeerbo or Jabox, ex labbit. Ex findle
Will not dethrail thee, ignibious twindle.

Ickwad of Thrumpus, I salue wack vornage -
If one undrangs a wangwompus, why gornage?
After a tral of untrigabble trog,
Only then scray what a scriggle would scrog.

Should we...

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Grunttenly I fretted the krakening;
Asthe ship dawns the horizon;
Burtworthy emplosions grafting;
Microrations gobblestone variants;
Up holding yon populats;
Ole!! thy fellows freddled Vogonian;
Banquish thessalonian squall;

4/20/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©...

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Three minuuts is all me’ve got
to fix sense of it, alles not.
Whutis time in tru sens of tings
wen you and mestart to zings
of lifinluv of all that is,
or izunt, in this heady quiz?

Life’ll livun tillit diez
then whutstocomm in the skiez?
Dusto dust is whutis sade
anthen what – where dus dust go?
I dunno and don tinktha you...

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Myself! 

I love myself, 
I know myself, 
I acknowledge myself, 
I accept myself, 
I am myself. 

Myself, myself, myself.
I do love you : myself.
Always always myself....

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NEWS FLASH

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

Dave Austin...

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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...

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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.........

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Gargoyles of deepest night in an island strangest
Preys of mangled bodies they can't digest
Rounded, popping eyes craving with long nails
Caveats of animals eating their own flesh

Villains of Capeesh roaming as beasts
On tables and floors, scratched and feasts
Gobbling maudlin juices of live carmine
Spilling on throat and skins of grapevine

Brutes of cursed and mythical roots
Flutes of cold...

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A movie about horror
Characters playing with mirror
Reflecting images of furor
Dissecting with knives of terror

Villains of phantasm
Heels of sarcasm
Viewers of spasm
Breaking apart like chasm

Stories of apparition
Product of man's illusion
Overshadowing people's intuition
Instinct over perception

Curtains of cinema, wide open and free
Watchers of stigma, cold hands on knee

Lesson of the story, mind over body
Shadows of mystery, glimpse of artistry...

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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...

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