poetry standoff # 2

**All posts originally appeared on poetry standoff

SUBJECT: Your first love
15/07/10

Quietly.

We would walk the silent roads at night
so quietly, I would tip-toe in the steps you left
pretending to look at stars, either one not knowing what to say
He told me his family was Orion's belt before he came
but when he did, they gave him the little star on the right
the one that doesn't quite belong.
And he would twirl his wrist round mine
and I would forget about the time,
He'd find my fingers and bend them to him
my heart would follow their lead.
Lying in my bed, we were knotted at the knees
loose ties, crumpled collars
and I would pull my hair out and sigh relief.
How often we would fall asleep like that
so quietly, I would tip-toe in the steps you left
your arms of sweet content.

SUBJECT: Tutankhamun
12/07/10

Entertainment Tonight with KING TUT**

King Tutankhamun, King Tut for short,
was robbed off his childhood and forced into court,
Royalty at nine with love from civilians,
He sued both his parents for stashing his millions.

Cashed up and alone, betrayed by Egypt,
He moved to New York and bought a new crypt,
He invested his cash in temples and threads,
A new found messiah with a head full of dreads.

The Prince formerly known as 'Tu-tank-haten',
made a smash record with Bjork and Mike Patton,
If was highly acknowledged the tune was a curse,
If the listener decided to play in reverse.

A shy kind of fellow, not one for publicity,
he strived for the normal, a life of simplicity.
His intention short lived, with a shorter shelf-life,
When he mentioned his sister was also his wife.

Betrayed by a lover with her 'tell-all book',
He tried to sue Gaga for stealing his look,
Two DUI's, and a charge for possession,
Saw a stint in rehab for abuse and depression,
Busted five times for breach of probation,
King Tut became an international sensation.

No one quite knows, how King Tut did die,
A chariot fall, or a messed up drive-by,
By the end a has-been, one fallen star,
hiding behind his cleft palate scar.

Like Jimmi and Janice, River and Kurt
King Tut was taken before his pay dirt,
The original celebrity on borrowed time,
Nineteen in death but alive in our minds.

**Only 25 per cent historically accurate.

SUBJECT: The BP Oil Spill
13/07/10

‎

All You Can Eat 

(Read with a French Accent)

Good evening my customers and welcome tonight,
to an evening of (gas)tronomical delight!
Tonight I'm your waiter, My name is Felipe,
Tonight specials straight from the oily blue deep,
From our founders and patrons, the men at BP,
A selection of morsels and delicious debris!

Perhaps I could tempt you with Scallops on shell,
braised in petroleum, and straight out of hell?
Or perhaps whet your appetite with Nemo Le Stewed?
It's demon clownfish with pippi's and crude.
There's oil-gusher prawns with black salmon in foil,
and dolphin blow-holes stuffed with pepper and oil,
Contaminated turtle and polluted crustacean,
are both a good cause for tonights celebration!

I'll give you one moment for you to peruse,
the selection on offer cannot be refused,
Because it's all that we have, and it's all that you'll get,
And we need a large profit to cover our debt,
I must warn you in advance there's no chicken to serve,
But I recommend the pelican as a tasty hors d'oeuvre.

FIN.

 

Today I am...

To the ones who are artists,
for the love of their namesake,
and an even deeper love
of themselves.
Behold.
For I... am an elephant.

poetry standoff

**All posts originally appeared on poetry standoff


SUBJECT: Getting dumped by Greeting Card
10/07/10

Dumpsville, Population? You.

A welcome surprise from the postman today,
A pink envelope and a giant bouquet,
I tore through the pink with delight and intent,
Taking the time to breathe in your scent.

Rose petals fell out, a clever attack,
With a smile on my face, the card smiled back,
Glossy, embossed, I was confused and amazed,
At the seal on the front with his flipper upraised,

Your intentions unclear, the meaning unknown,
I pondered the card that was waving ‘hello’
An interesting choice from a tempestuous lover,
But you can’t always judge a book by its cover.

I opened the card, expecting great things,
Creative expression and the good that it brings,
Cursive calligraphy, ‘I’s’ dotted with hearts,
Yearnings about my most intimate parts,

You’d promise me loyalty, passion, romance,
You’d cross oceans for me of any expanse,
You’d tell me my beauty is like Helen of Troy,
You’d tell me without me life holds no joy,

But you wrote me a letter you’d never written before
For all that was written was ‘I love you no more’


SUBJECT: Mesh underwear and dinner with the parents.
09/07/10

Meshed Potatoes

It’s quarter to six, I’m feeling quite stressed
Dinners in ten and I’m still undressed,
The laundry’s still wet, no knickers in sight,
I can’t go to mum’s without a fanny dressed right.

The pickings are slim, and now I don’t care,
I suck it all in, for my mesh underwear.
I’m off in a flash! To dinner on time!
A night off from cooking with a litre of wine!

Mums opens the door, with a glass of Merlot,
But there’s something not right with the mesh down below.
I writhe and I shiver, are they starting to shrink?
I send my mum off to fetch me a drink.

With her back turn I strike, at my momentary glitch,
I readjust my gusset, but it’s starting to itch.
I stare at my glass, and ask for ice cubes,
I shift in my seat to unknot my pubes.

Ice cubes in Bordeaux? My father aghast,
he took to the kitchen, while my knickers surpassed
The length of my thighs right down to my knees!
When my mother returned with a side dish of peas

“Alright everybody! It’s time to sit down!
Dinner’s now ready, so please gather round.”
I pulled up my briefs, with a great deal of haste,
Placing the band, back onto my waist.

I gritted my teeth at the hot little fire,
That was knashing my mound like a mess of barb wire,
“My dear”! Mum exclaimed, “You’re so awfully flustered!”
“You’ve not said a word about my unlively custard!”

“It’s hot in here” I stammered, “And the custard is lovely,”
The bread is amazing and the wine is so bubbly”
She smiled at me gently, with motherly love,
when the doorbell went off as a sign from above.

The family distracted, their attention alert,
I strike like a cobra right under my skirt,
They’re off in a flash, and I gather my calm,
As I angrily clutch the vagina napalm.

“Never again”, I say to myself,
Will I wear mesh undies and endanger my health,
The next time I find no clean ones about,
I’ll just turn a dirty pair inside and out.


SUBJECT: A poem about limericks written in haiku
09/07/10

Suggestion Erotica

Dirty limericks
Should be made mandatory
During intercourse.


FIN.