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VerbWhores Poem 2010

Started by the midnight watch baboon, January 22, 2010, 09:22:21 PM

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the midnight watch baboon

quick, before January ends!

January: The new Decay'e'd

I sit upon a crag's west bench
Sometimes the fog obscures the sea
Getting there's been a snowy wrench
This month, decade. This January

A waterfall tumbles nearby
The noughties cascade to the ground
A stupid fucking deer cries
The nineties echo all around

Oh but what, but oh, what but oh!
Will the Tenties bring to nature-
Will they recede, bleed, poison, grow?
Bring a bomb - a ruddy 'H'-er.




Sexton Brackets Drugbust

Twenty-tenty, Rumpty-tum
Newsome decade, grey and glum

Irridescent obsolescence
Shining, gleaming Blu-ray stack
Can we have our money back?

Jemble Fred

While we're rhyming,
Here's Bill Wyman,
Here to find some gold for us.
Get your detector,
Bill, you spectre,
Detecting something funny in this rhyme would be a plus.

Hoppity Mohammed hops merrily onto

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

His raspberry red velocipede
In hot pursuit
Of that fucking mountain

Ginyard

Somewhere in Zimbabwe
While his mum serves in a cafe

Cambrian Times

She cowers fearfully under
The watchful eyes of Mugabe

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

Mugabe, Mugabe
To buy a fat pig
Home again, home again
Jiggety jig

the midnight watch baboon

Jog jag jug
Smiffy, Danny, Toots an' Plug-
Robert's children.

Combine harvester pisses blood!
The white, the black and the r e d

Cambrian Times

Are all the colours in my head
All the colours of the living dead

Once upon a time there was a man named Brown
He lived in a big house in the middle of London Town
He fucked up the country because of the "War"
And also because he was a great big lying bore.

Once upon a time there was man named Blair
He had no concience and even less hair
What were the facts in that Iraq security file?
And what evil deeds lay behind that crooked Cheshire smile?


the midnight watch baboon

The smiles drop from a nation's face,
Like concrete, rigged with explosives.
In Lake Habbinayah, towards its west bank,
There are Weapons Massed for future Destruction.

Weapons under its portentous surface
Massed like a room of tall, lost, abandoned boys,
If a perch swam at them,
Nothing'd probably happen.
But maybe that's the point.

Jemble Fred

To point and giggle,
And give a wee jiggle,
At the timorous twats,
In their Thursday best hats,
Or to join in and cheer,
With a warm pint of beer,
As the kids on the sidelines
All jeer and leer.

Tuesday's child is fat of...



[[VERBWHORES POETRY EVENING ON CaB RADIO...

Would be a great idea. Anyone I PM'd got round to recording those poems yet?]]

the midnight watch baboon

F e v r i é r

...fat, is child Tuesday.
Have you ever loved a fat child?
When the fields are whitey-green,
And the mud can't resist your soles.

The new year starts when Jan' folds
And the air is swarmed with airbourne moulds,
You can always contract death in this corner-cut month.
Ice sticks your lips, all around you are cunth.

Learn the banjo, straddle the spring.
It's time to strum, but you never could sing.



Cerys

Forecastfox says it's snowing
I see no snow
But that might be
Because the blinds are closed.
Head in sand, Aberystwyth style
Grit my teeth
Silty salty cold down here
And the tide is
Coming in.

the midnight watch baboon

Some hail swirled all around me earlier,
It swirled okay, but snow is swirlier.

Ginyard

My mum told me it was made from puff
(rabbits tails, not whores and stuff)

Cambrian Times

I am February's child
A melancholy babe
Whose tears fall like the melting snow
And just as cold.

I am February's child
No valentine for me
No roses but an epitaph
Stone cold stone

the midnight watch baboon

I got up from the lovers' stone
My warm arse left a darker-than-stone patch
It was heart-shaped
Love is shit.

.

Jemble Fred


Ginyard

Pussy's in the well!
Who put her in?
Freddie Starr!
Who pulled her out?
Stop asking me questions!
OK!

Cerys

And so begins
The Shit Parade
Of magazines

Neville Chamberlain

February in Nottingham

Oh winter!
How thine icy grip
Descends
'pon the Market Square
Forcing the local populace
To seek urgent shelter
In Yates'
Or possibly one
Of the two
Wetherspoons pubs
That are there
'pon the Market Square
Where the icy grip of winter
Descends

the midnight watch baboon

Ahh, 'Nottingham Together'-
The twisted bollock club.
Meets every thirteenth Friday-
In a Robin Hood-themed pub.
In their they play with arrows-
But not the legend's kind.
Take their minds off their warped scrotae-
Helps the lads' minds and balls unwind.
February's a cruel month-
To these sad set of chums.
As St Valentine's a teaser-
And they can't unload their plums.
Plums.
their plums.
Plums.



Cerys

Lovely plums!
Get 'em while they're
Not.

the midnight watch baboon

Yeah, like Snoop says.
He's a farmer,
but you all knew that,
Da tree planter, yeah 'e had to do that,
'E keep a packed lunch hanging out iz backside,
Yoghurt on the left side, yeah that's the right side.
It hurts when the plums drop,
And the trees stare back at me with naked arms,
Their plums dropped and bruised, quiet and floating,
In the dry ocean of land.
It's a shame that plums don't grow,
In Feb'ry.

Cambrian Times

I like purple plums
But I prefer the taste of
The ripe red apple.

Neville Chamberlain

February in Nottingham (reprise)

There are no plums in Nottingham
There are no plums
There are
No plums
In Nottingham

Jemble Fred

Best get yourself to Hull.

Buds and beds and bids and bards,
That's February to I.
The buds are budding, the bed is warm, the bids are hopeful,
And the bards are barmy.

Neville Chamberlain

Oh how you'll never get me to Hull!
The local population they should cull!
So I've been told,
It's ugly and cold,
Not to mention awfully, supernaturally dull!

Ginyard

And talking of dull,
I like mine spicey,
No,
Wait,
That's dhal,
Rod Hull

Cerys

Roald Dahl
Lord of all
Things chocolatey and snozz
Now in
Great Missenden
Decomposey and snooze