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Life with a flatulent greyhound... - Finis!

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April 30th, 2009
07:03 pm

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Finis!

Since today is the last day of National Poetry Month, I present you with:

Untitled, by Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz

Oh freddled gruntbuggley, thy micturations are to me
     As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee
Groop I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
    And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles, or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!

Gashee morphousite, thou expungiest quoopisk!
    Fripping lyshus wimbgunts, awhilst moongrovenly kormzibs.
Bleem miserable venchit! Bleem forever mestinglish asunder frapt!
    Gerond withoutitude form into formless bloit, why not then? Moose.

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From:[info]markbark
Date:May 1st, 2009 12:53 am (UTC)

Let us not forget....

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Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex



Dead Swans

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay. They rotted. They turned
Around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from
Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.



Edited at 2009-05-01 12:54 am (UTC)
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From:[info]stori_lundi
Date:May 1st, 2009 01:15 am (UTC)

Re: Let us not forget....

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That is remarkably similar to a piece from Carmina Burana, "Les Cignes", which translates something like:

I used to be a swan swimming on a lake.
Now I am roasting on a spit; my flesh is blackened."
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From:[info]cricketzouave
Date:May 1st, 2009 02:36 am (UTC)
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Wow... I thought nothing could beat P.V. Jeltz, nut I think this swan stuff comes very close.
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From:[info]mikailborg
Date:May 1st, 2009 10:21 am (UTC)
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Oh my goodness, you found the Infocom game edition.

I bow to your hardcore.
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From:[info]stori_lundi
Date:May 1st, 2009 10:35 am (UTC)
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Thank you! Thank you!! *bow*
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