Worst Poem Ever Contest

[Lordmikel]

Well I happened to see this contest, and I thought the poets here might want to take a shot.

Of course if you're not a fan of Douglas Adam's Hitchiker's Guide to the Universe, then you probably won't appreciate it.

http://www.aintitcoolnews.com/display.cgi?id=19112

 

[kbate]

My Poem

Towering High, leaves rustle gently,
Majestic arms, reaching in supplication,
Goddamned tree in my front yard is filled with stupid birds.
I hate them
Stihl, Husqvarna, Homelite, McCulloch,
Axes, chainsaws, splitting mauls and shredders,
I am cutting down that fucking tree.
I hate them.
My car is covered in shit,
My garden plants ruined and stained.
Damn Starlings nesting in my front yard,
I hate them.
Shotguns and trash bags, a crazed woman screams,
shots in the night, the peace shattered,
Birds drop by the dozens, these ones are now good.
I hate them.

----------------------
Its not Vogon, but it should do, it should do.....

 

[WickedEve]

Thanks to wikipedia, I now know Vogon poetry. We appear to have some of it lurking in the literotica archives.


From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

Vogon Poetry is poetry written by Vogons, a fictional race in Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Asgoths of Crea. During a recitation by their poetmaster Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in my Armpit One Midsummer Morning" four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging and the president of the mid-galactic Arts Knobbling Council survived only by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been "disappointed" by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled "My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles" when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save humanity, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain. The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paul Neil Milne Johnstone of Redbridge, in the destruction of the planet Earth. Vogon poetry is mild by comparison.

Listening to it is an experience similar to torture as seen when Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect are forced to listen to the Vogon captain's poetry prior to being thrown out of an airlock.

Excerpt:

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
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.

A second example of Vogon poetry was found in the Hitchhiker's Guide interactive fiction game that was produced by Infocom. This is actually the second verse of the above poem; if nothing else, it is fair to say that Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz was consistent in his efforts to reach out to and crush souls with his poetry.

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.

 

[Randi Grail]

More information about the very worst:
(nicked from various places on the net)


First of all --
--------------------
Paul Neil Milne Johnstone was the person originally credited in the original radio play version of Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy with being "the very worst" poet in the universe. The name given was that of a real person, who apparently was not amused, and complained. The name was therefore changed to "Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings" in all later versions.
--------------------


And here it is --
--------------------
This is the actual poem mentioned in HHG. This is taken from the TV series, the poem is on the screen during the segment where the book talks about vogon poetry. You can verify this with any standard VCR with a good pause.

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

--------------------

--Randi who is the biggest Adams fan there is.

 

[flyguy69]

....

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

--------------------

--Randi who is the biggest Adams fan there is.

Hmmm, if I substitute "poetry" for "dead swans" it becomes autobiographical...

 

[Liar]

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

*shudder*

 

[foehn]

Hmmm, if I substitute "poetry" for "dead swans" it becomes autobiographical...

*LAUGH*

Ah, the important things we learn here!

 

[twelveoone]

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

--------------------

--Randi who is the biggest Adams fan there is. [/B]

Oh lord, that smells like some of my stuff. Scatch and Sniff poetry.

Oh lord, if I cannot be the Alpha, let me be the Omega.

he prays