Monthly Archives: September 2014

The Man Who Gave Birth To Hitler

The Man Who Gave Birth to Hitler

Ok, so posting my second poem to feature Hitler is a risky move. It definitely has the potential to make me look like a fan of his but I’d like to stress that this poem was inspired by an entirely different event to ‘Hitler On Toast’ and Hitler’s involvement is just an unfortunate coincidence. This particular poem was inspired by something my friend said. It was a Monday morning and he was very tired so he can probably be excused for the ridiculousness of his statement. His exact words were ‘I’d hate to be the man who gave birth to Hitler’.

It was silly. And this poem is just a silly exploration of the life of the man who gave birth to Hitler. It also shows that any of us could have given birth to Hitler. Even if you knew that your baby was going to grow up to be Hitler, could you stop loving it? I don’t know what I’d do or feel in that situation but I have no immediate plans to give birth to Hitler so hopefully I’ll never have to find out.

The Man Who Gave Birth To Hitler

If I gave birth to Hitler
And set him on my knee
I’d wrap him in a velvet sash
And then I’d set him free

If I gave birth to Hitler
And lay him in a bed
I’d cover him with glitter
And hold him by the head

If I gave birth to Hitler
And kissed him on the cheek
I’d share parental custody
And see him twice a week

Coming soon, to a cinema near you

Coming soon, to a cinema near you

Lungs

Lungs

The human body is an amazing thing made up of lots of smaller amazing things. I could write for ages about all the different organs (steady on) in the human body. Maybe one day I will, but today I want to talk about the lungs. The lungs are incredible. I won’t bore you with all the science I learned in Biology A level because I can’t remember any of it. The point is, they are awesome. That being said, nothing is perfect and it would be wrong to put lungs on a pedestal. As heroic and life-sustaining as they are, they have many flaws. This short poem summarises my feelings on the pros and cons of our respiratory system.

Lungs

Lungs are two big, windy bags
They’re wondrous things but there are snags
For lungs have never learned to eat
And til they do, they’re incomplete

A lungs worst nightmare

A lungs worst nightmare

William McGonagall

William McGonagall

Apologies for the poor banner on this post. My scanner is knackered so I had to upload it as a photo. I’ll replace it as soon as I can!

Today is the 112th anniversary of the death of a man who is generally considered to be the worst poet ever to have written in the English language. That man was William Topaz McGonagall. McGonagall was really quite abysmal as a poet and, as such, is unbelievably entertaining to read. If you don’t believe me, read The Tay Bridge Disaster which is one of his most famous poems. While you’re on his website, do take a look around. Another personal favourite of mine is The Ancient Town of Leith. He was wonderfully genuine and sincere but just lacked any poetic skill. As an aspiring awful poet, I have come to consider William McGonagall as a bit of a hero.

Not only was he a naff poet, but he was a true Scottish eccentric. He once walked about 60 miles from Dundee to Balmoral to visit Queen Victoria who had sent him a letter. Upon arriving, he was told she wouldn’t see him so he immediately turned around and walked straight back! He also famously wrote ‘The first man who threw peas at me was a publican’.

He named the published collection of his poetry ‘Poetic Gems’. What an amazingly brilliant man!

I wanted to mark this occasion with a tribute to McGonagall written in his own style. Merry Deathday Willliam McGonagall! May you be remember’d for a very long time indeed!

William McGonagall

William McGonagall, most amusing to read
I’m sure many intelligent men will concede
Your beautiful lyrics have earned you remembrance to this day
As an example, I name your telling of the rail bridge disaster over the silvery Tay

Your first poem appeared in News Weekly in July of 1877
Your unique ignorance of form or rhythm must have sent the readers to Heaven
And since then, at least most people do declare
Your writing remained similarly graceful and fair

William McGonagall, most eccentric in the land
You were a very prolific poet which is really grand
And today of all days, I have heard many people shout
‘Oh what a pity we don’t have William Topaz McGonagall about!’

You walked for many miles to perform
And you were far too strange ever to want to conform
You walked to a palace and saw Queen Victoria wave her beautiful hand
And felt inspired because the way she waved was really grand

You sadly passed away on 29th September in the year of 1902 in Edinburgh
And the world was plunged into deep sorrow
And since that day, in solemn tones it is often said
‘I’m sad that William McGonagall is dead’

All the looks and talent of Bob Dylan

All the looks and talent of Bob Dylan

The Disembodied, Well Embellished Belly Full of Burger King

The Disembodied, Well Embellished Belly Full of Burger King

Here is the second belly poem. Unlike today’s other poem, this is not about a person with a belly. This is about a free standing belly with a life of it’s own. This old advert served as the initial inspiration. The Disembodied, Well Embellished Belly Full of Burger King started essentially as a stream-of-consciousness ramble bordering on nonsense verse ,but a back story gradually started to emerge. In this four line poem, we discover a belly caught in a cruel life of murderous crime. Why? Nobody really knows, but it is often said in hushed tones that the belly was driven mad when it came second in a belly beauty contest and could no longer live with it’s own appearance. It’s quite moving really.

The Disembodied, Well Embellished Belly Full of Burger King

A disembodied, well embellished belly full of Burger King
Fell onto a therapist who never saw or felt a thing
And while you think the well embellished burger belly might be best
It cannot beat a disembodied belly full of chicken breast

Cheesemato anyone?

Cheesemato anyone?

Me And My Belly

Me And My Belly

Today, my two posts share a similar theme. Bellies. Bellies can appear for a number of reasons. Booze, food, and laziness being three obvious examples. Food in particular is a trap I often fall into. Sure tomatoes are very nice and pretty and all, but a slice of tomato in a huge, greasy burger is a hell of a lot sexier.

Being fit and healthy is obviously a great idea but bellies are not necessarily evil. Great joy can come from bellies if they are put to good use. This short poem tells the story of a man who, laughing in the face of possible shame, uses his belly to entertain the nation. It was inspired partly by one of the few acts I ever watched on Britain’s Got Talent. The show is usually a boring collection of tediously generic singers and dance groups but Stavros Flatley stand out as probably the most original and hilarious acts in the history of the show. The funny factor of their act is due, in no small part, to their bountiful bellies.

Me and My Belly

Me and my belly
We’re not very smelly
But we’re both looking pretty well round

But me and my belly
We’re jiggling on the telly
And now we’re seen all around

I have successfully cross-bred a chicken with a tomato! I give you... Tomeato!

I have successfully cross-bred a chicken with a tomato! I give you… Tomeato!

She Got Married

She Got Married

I’m afraid that this is another poem that apparently made sense at the time. I was quite tired when I wrote it but obviously thought it was good enough to keep. As such, I can’t offer all that much of an explanation for it. I offer, instead, an apology.

She Got Married

She married the son of a farmer
He swore not to harm ‘er

She married the son of a nurse
He arrived in a hearse

She married the son of a table
She thought he’d be stable

She married the son of a goat
I’m not here to gloat

With this ring, I thee rule With this ring I find you With this ring, I thee bring And in the darkness bind you

With this ring, I thee rule
With this ring I find you
With this ring, I thee bring
And in the darkness bind you

Tiny Dancers

Tiny Dancers

We all know about stories like The Borrowers, or The Smurfs, or maybe even Terry Pratchett’s Bromeliad Trilogy, in which tiny people of some kind live alongside humans. Most of these stories, however, seem to follow the idea that these tiny people would hide and play no part in our lives except when a particularly clumsy or unlucky large person stumbles across them. What if they lived among us? What if humans and tiny people shared the world in peace and built a beautiful integrated society? I think that the tiny peoples dainty wee bodies would make them very good at the more graceful professions, dancing being just one example.

Tiny Dancers

Upside down and in the air
There’s tiny dancers everywhere
Downside up and on the ground
There’s tiny dancers in the round

Inside out, above the moon
There’s tiny dancers, ‘Off so soon?’
Outside in, beneath the stars
They’re leaving in their tiny cars

I will make the tiny dance team this year!

I will make the tiny dance team this year!