User:One-eyed Jack/Prams

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Oh God. I have writtened poems for various articles. Here they are all in one place, so I can look at them, groan, and try to fix them up.

From John Keats[edit]


La Hot Babe Sans Merci
What's up with thee, O bronzéd wight,
All in a beach chair lazing?
The babes have fled from off the beach;
Yeah, no birds sing.
I see a beer can in your hand,
And empties scatt'red close by you;
And on thy chest a sunburn red
Fast bloometh too.
I met a beach babe on the sands
Tanned and hot, a right sweet chick;
Her hair was blond, tattooed was she;
Her lips she licked.
I set her on my white surf-board
And paddled out where breakers roar;
And sideways she did lean, and that
Annoyed me sore.
I said to her, 'SIT STILL, goddamn,
Or we'll both fall into the surf.'
For sharks, I fancied, waited there
Our bones to scarf.
Then from the board she leapt away!
I fell and badly whacked my head,
and floundered, drowning, toward the beach
Damn near dead.
And that is why I'm lazing here
In my beach chair with my six-pack:
I hope perchance the tide will bring
My surfboard back.

From Robert Frost[edit]

On Stopping By Someone Else's Campsite On A Hot Day
Whose beer this is I think I know.
He's fishing on the lake, and so
I'll take a can; he's nowhere near
And therefore cannot tell me "No".
So bottoms up and more's the cheer.
I'll just sit and drink it here.
One can is really not enough;
I think I'll have another beer.
A full six-pack would be the stuff!
The owner's gone so it's just tough
For him -- he cannot raise a squawk.
Besides, I'm feeling pretty rough.
I count the cans and with a shock
Find I have guzzled quite a crock,
And now I am too drunk to walk,
And now I am too drunk to walk.

From Emily Dickinson[edit]

Because I Could Not Stop For Chinese Takeout
Because I could not stop for Death --
He brought his Taxi 'round --
He drove up eating pork chow mein --
A heap-up steaming mound.
Death was a pig -- He had no fork --
And I, I had no spoon --
He scooped his food with both his hands --
As we began to roll.
We passed the School, a child ran
After a ball into the street --
The Taxi-Driver squashed her flat --
He did not try to steer.
We crossed a Bridge by luck alone --
He shook more soy sauce on --
I felt faint, I'd had no lunch --
And then Death cracked a beer.
By crosswalks, stops, and railroad grades --
We flew without a pause --
He smashed old ladies and their dogs --
He didn't seem to care.
Death's chow-mein bowl was bottomless --
It didn't quite seem fair --
When at last I realized --
He wasn't going to share --

From Death by poetry[edit]

On Stopping By Woods With A Snowy Owl
(A mix-up on several riffs)
Whose owl is this? I twisted it lightly
And it's head popped off, just like that.
Would somebody please come fix this owl?
Sorry! The Andromeda galaxy tilted slightly,
Casey swung and the ump cried "Foul"
And the Mudville team was getting fat.
The woods stood silent, and quite rightly
Because I had wet my pants where I sat
And Ginsberg was starting to Howl.
~~Robert Service
I met a wench from an antique land
who winked her eye and began to flirt.
Two vast and legless feet of sand
like schnauzers stuck from beneath her skirt.
"O Traveller" said this bigfoot lass,
"I'm Ozymandias, shameless hussy.
But call me Mandy and pinch my ass
and I'll give ya a kiss...unless you're fussy."
Well, those feet to me smelt of decay
so I grabbed my pants and ran away.
~~Percy Bysshe Shelley

From William Butler Yeats[edit]

Down in Old Sally's Garden
Down in old Sally's garden I took my dog Chico to roam;
He pissed on Sally's lettuce, and knocked down her garden gnome.
She leaned out of her window and called us two stupid gits,
But I, being young and horny, just stood and stared at her tits.
In a field by the river where I went to smoke a fag
I happened upon a kilo of pot, wrapped up in a plastic bag.
When I showed it to Sally, she grinned and took out her teeth
And so we spent the afternoon high on Jamaican leaf.

From Amazon River[edit]

Ode to Amazonas, the River Sea
O mighty and fruitful Río Amazonas
Bananas float upon your thick brown tide,
Pineapples bob in your spinning whirlpools,
Papayas by the hundreds line your side.
O fruity and mightful Río Amazonas
All the Indians along your banks have diarrhea.
Enough with the fruit already!
Red meat! Give us red meat to stave off anemia.
O Río Amazonas, you flow from Peru
Through Mexico and some other places
Which I forget, ending up in Canada
Where icicles hang from people's faces.
O Amazonas, Río Amazonas, why?
Why do you flow to the land of the moose
To squirt your brown and turbid flood
Upon the ice like a stream of snoose?
You bring us fruit, O Río Amazonas,
That's true, but we don't want it!
Just stay in Brazil from now on, O great river,
And leave Canada to the beaver and marmot.
~Alexander MacKenzie, 1734