Partied Out To Kingdom Come
 
This poem was written for National Poetry Day (UK) 11th Oct 2002 National Poetry Day

National Poetry Day
Mike

Today it's National Poetry Day,
So skip and jump and shout hooray,
And at this most auspicious time
Let your words be said in rhyme.
Say them boldy, make them scan,
Deliver them the best you can.
Speak your lines with umph and meter.
Try not to allow them to peter...
out.


Anyway...

Today it's National Poetry Day,
At least it is in the UK.
The second Thursday each October
Is a time not to be sober.
Celebrate with wine and beer.
Just ignore all those who sneer
And say that poetry's oh so dull,
A total pile of minging bull,

A vile, repugnant ball of slime,
A tedious, wretched waste of time,
A crock of onanistic shite
That sad pretentious fuck-ups write.
We know that it's really great;
We won't rise up to their bait.
Here we'll lie amongst our readers,
Drifting, roaming, bottom feeders.

Errrrrrr....

OK I think I have digressed.
It could be time to take a rest,
So I'll leave you to celebrate
And crack into your beer crate
And drink a toast to our great skill,
To Byron, Shelley, Keats and Will*
And all who fill our hearts with joy
For today it's National Poetry...

Damn!

*I am, of course, referring to William Blake here rather than that tosspot Shakespeare (or worse still Wordsworth).
 
This can be sung to to the popular dance choon "Heads, shoulders, knees and toes". Altogether now... The Breakfast Song

The Breakfast Song
Mike

Eggs, bacon, beans and toast,
    Beans and toast.
Eggs, bacon, beans and toast,
    Beans and toast.
Sausage, mushrooms, tea, tomatoes.
Eggs, bacon, beans and toast,
    Beans and toast

 
Brian Is A Cunt
Mike

Brian is a cunt.
You can stick him underground.
Put him six feet under
Where he never will be found.
Let him rot and fester
In a casket of cheap pine
With plastic fake-brass handles
Where the sun will never shine.

Let me dance upon his grave
And sing a merry song
About the corpse beneath my feet
Down where it does belong.
Join me in a party
And spread wide the invitation
To anyone who'd love to
Celibrate his expiration.

Let us dig his coffin up
And bring it to the feast
Let us prise the lid open
And drag out the deceased.
Oh what fun and games we could have
With our guest of honour.
There's no need to leave him out
Just 'cos he's a goner.

Let us put on boxing gloves
And punch him in the face.
And then play "Who can kick the cunt
The furthest around this place?"
String him like a puppet
Make him dance Y.M.C.A.
And give a small voicebox
That just says, "I am gay".

Then let us hire a rent boy
Who's prepared to shag the dead,
And when he's done it up his arse
Will give old Brian his head.
And then return him to the grave
Amongst the grubs and worms.
Partied out to kingdom come
His sphincter full of sperm.

 
Underwear
Mike

Today has gotta be the day
That I've gone and filled my pants with poo
By now I should've somehow
Realised that I'd need the loo
I don't believe that anybody
Walks the way I do. I can't sit down.

Brown seat, the word is on the street
That the power in my fart is out
I'm sure you've smelled it all before
But now it's really up your snout
I don't believe that anybody
Walks the way I do. My pants are brown.

And all the turds I've had to crap are clinging
And all the shite hangs from my cheeks all minging
There are many ways that I could
Have stopped this follow-through
But it's too late now
Because maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me?
And anyway
You're my underwear

 
Woman With Six Tits

Woman With Six Tits
Mike

I want woman with six tits
Two are not sufficient.
I need breasts that will befit
A man in my position.

A brace of boobs may satisfy
The man out on the street.
But I've a healthy appetite
And I require more meat.

My beer it comes in six packs
My eggs by half a dozen.
Why cannot this principle
Be then applied to bosoms?

I do not want three women
Each with just one pair.
I like to be monogamous,
You can't say I'm not fair.

So what is so unreasonable
About my jug request?
Perhaps a G.M. woman
Could carry such a chest.

But meanwhile I'll just fantasise
And say, "Oh, what the heck!"
And make do with my au pair
Who's got arses round her neck

 
 
March 2003
 



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