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The Return of the Maggie Poetry Corner!
I may live to regret this...
By popular demand (from no-one), it's the return of an old Maggie favourite. Yes, Poetry Corner is back! We've been away for too long, but we have had new inspirations! Now read on, with mounting horror!
The first place we go to, are the classics. And what can be more classic than William Wordsworth, full of words of poetic significance and keen to disgorge them onto a waiting blank page.
Or is it? Read on!
'Crocodiles'
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills
Hem, hem, excuse me Mr Wordsworth.
Have you been necking laudanum chasers and pills?
A host of golden crocodiles
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Oh dear, this doesn't look good at all,
The big scarred looking one. It's got his knees.
I think we're going to need a bigger pail
To bring him back home, for he will fail!
Now take heed of my sad tale,
when abroad in such jocund company.
Do not confuse daffodils and crocodiles,
For the latter bites, so you will wail!
And now, some textual transmissions from some cool people we met in Gdansk,
mangled through the magic of machine translation, then added to in a mistaken
fashion by the Maggie poet laureate, well what have we got here?
Golden Sow Squad on the offensive !
(This one should be read out in the style of John Cooper Clarke.)
It was kicking off in the old Gdansk town,
A mournful ballad was going down!
So it was the gilded piggies to the fore,
The Golden Sow Squad are on the offensive!
I wanted to write of the Atari,
It is very cool and it smells nicely!
and I was getting a divorce, this time in earnest,
But the Golden Sow Squad were on the offensive!
Beer in the morning is better than sour cream,
Evening beer too is nicer than tea!
Whisky at noon though, makes me very pensive,
Because the Golden Sow Squad are on the offensive!
A Traditional Polski Demo Scene drinking Poem!
Sebaloz an old gay? huj,
Where is Kebaloz? huj,
Though August wash their sprayed perfume,
You are the atarii, you're with atarii !
It's the 21st of October 2015, its the day that Marty McFly came 'back to the
future' in the second movie of that series. Now perhaps it is time for Poetry
Corner to reflect on this? Remember kids, hover boards don't really hover!
Back to the Future to the past?
Marty McFly glided in today, expectantly
on a hover board,
He wobbled out unsteadily
on a mono board instead.
Until today, the 21st October 2015 was the future,
From tomorrow, it will be celebrated as the time formerly known as
Back to the Future.
For prose economy fans, It will simply be known as
Back to the Past.
For our next misadventure into the world of words, we consider that bastion of
decent British values, the Daily Mail, especially their online presence at -
REDACTED TO PROTECT INNOCENT READERS - As part of their service, they have
something known jovially as 'the sidebar of shame'. Here is the story of its
effects on a typical reader.
The Daily Male
All grown up now,
And she's exposing her toned flesh.
Trousers all down now,
Revealing her pert derriere at the gym.
All grown up now,
And Lindsay Lohan flashes a hint of sideboob.
Pants all down now,
She's wearing nothing but thigh-length boots!
All grown up now,
And she's very mature for her age.
Palms all sweaty now,
Flirty Susanna gushes all over Daniel Craig.
All grown up now,
Former spice girl, no, really, Omigod!
See through jogging pants!
UUrrugh! Uuuh! Urrrgh! Ahh!
(All he's asking for, is his country back,Is that really too much to ask?)
We're calming down from the sweaty excitement of that last poem, and going
for something more educational. What could be more diverse than learning about
Cockney slang and some zoological facts? Well this poem covers both of these
things! Enjoy!
Cocknee Slang Zoologie!
How much is that?
You've got to be having a Giraffe!
The Giraffe is an African even-toed ungulate,
The tallest living terrestrial animal and the largest ruminant.
It is known as Giraffa camelopardalis to clever dicks.
Lend us a Pony mate,
'Cos I'm skint until payday.
A Pony is a small horse of any of several breeds.
It is usually not higher at the shoulder than 14 hands,
Which is 58 inches or 146 cm in normal peoples measures.
You Rabbit on all day and night!
Put a bleedin' sock in it!
Rabbits are small mammals in the family Leporidae.
They are of the order Lagomorpha,
And found in several parts of the world.
I owe Ronnie Kray a Monkey.
And I don't have that sort of money!
Monkeys are haplorhine ("dry-nosed") primates.
They consist of approximately 260 known living species.
Which is a lot.
Now to look at something which has been in the news a lot this year. Yes,
Jeremy Clarkson, named the most diplomatic person in a parallel universe, made
solely from arguments, has been sacked from the BBC 'motoring' show, Top Gear.
We believe this is all a cunning ruse.The punching incident is a thin cover story. He's really been sent to Syria, a la Henry Kissinger, to try to 'sort the place out'. They'll stop hostilities alright, to unite against a new common enemy, Jeremy Clarkson!
And on that bombshell, it's time for our next poem..
Ode to the ending of Top Gear
(About 160 million, by Amazon, over three years.)
With apologies to WH Auden. We're sorry, we're really really sorry!
Stop all the "Oh Cocks!" Switch off all the repeats,
Prevent James May from moaning about his defeats.
Silence the Stig, that is not too hard to do,
But most of all, put Jeremy Clarkson,
Where he can't punch me or you!
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
James May could never find his way anywhere,
even round the Top Gear test track.
Jezza thought his BBC contract would last forever.
But he was sadly lacking tact!
So take that final series of Top Gear,
Cut tragically short and released on DVD.
Now bury it in a coffin-shaped box set,
like a beloved hamster, before your tea.
(And what rough Chris Evans, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards the Beeb to be reborn?)
Now that you've mopped up those bitter tears and vowed revenge on the forces
of political correctness gone mad, the dismal drapes of ending are coming down
on Poetry Corner, it's time for our final poem. And thank heavens, you all cry.
So finally we have a little bit of a love poem, dedicated to a winsome televisual star, who's surname happens to rhyme the way I want it!
If I said I love you, would you stop screaming?
Holly Willoughby, Holly Willoughby,
You fill my knob with Electricity.
Your sweetness goes down well in Trafford,
Let us do it now, in a cupboard.
If she looked like Willy Wonka,
(as played by Johnny Depp)
Would I still want to bonk her?
(Hell, yep!)
Audience - "What the hell are you playing at? Are you begging for a tasering
or what?! "
Maggie - "It could be worse.."
Audience - "How can ANYTHING be worse than that!?"
Maggie - "Amanda Holden, Amanda Holden,
You make my testes feel ravaged and olden!"
Audience - "Ahh, ummm, okay, we concede that point, now please stop, right
there!"
Maggie - "Or how about, something with Darcy Bussell and love muscle?!"
Audience - "Fer Fucks Sake! NNNOOO!"
And that is really the end, when you manage to make the concept of 'Poetry
Corner' rhyme all too closely with 'Restraining Order'!
Goodbye!
CiH - Maggie 25th Anniversary, lots of times, haahaha!