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 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
erotica?
Never know
have to go
Now.
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
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
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.
/|\
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!
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©
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 do too.
I'd like to tinktha dust arrize – surprize!
Koment doz not define dedend.
Iznotso ezzy to defend it.
Dustit fliz, in air it blos
to landzen, feilsen, mountens too.
Life beginagin an then enden witit.
Three minuuts to hold dust in my heart.
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.
NEWS FLASH
get a load of this
utah backward is a sneeze
forgive me utes, please
Dave Austin
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
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......
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 bodies tootling in boots
Carcasses of narcoleptic nerves in tears
Taunted and pierced by tusks and smears
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
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.
Under the creepy tree
Lies a haunted bee, living so free
Comes around, goes around
In a shredded house buried underground
No curse can cease the flying bee
No spell to quell a singing bee
Full moon grows as werewolves howl
Shivering behind the bark is a crying owl
The haunted bee saw the preening owl
Jiggling and blustered, the owl began to brawl
The owl quashed the speeding bee on canvass
Bee was bruised, but the owl was stung...
fell on pampas