March On The Sun

Perfectly sensible  and intelligent people can sometimes be led to do utterly ridiculous things purely because everyone else is doing it. Respectable citizens are reduced to brutal animals or stupid thugs by mob mentality and peer pressure. This is a poem about people trying to kill the sun.

March On The  Sun

The sun is a tyrant The Governor cried
And it sits in our sky with insufferable pride
Overcome with this passion, The Governor died
But the damage was already done

Whipped into a frenzy of anguish and pain
They elected a leader to act as their brain
In their new revolution, for all were insane
And intended to march on the sun

March on the sun
Evading it’s flares
We’ll strike it at night
So it’s caught unawares

March on the sun
In celestial motion
Wearing sunglasses
Applying your lotion

They rose in the air with a haughty defiance
Disdainful of physics, yes raging at science
And anything asking a hint of compliance
They knew that enough was enough

The heights of our atmosphere, where the air’s thin
Was the point where the first of the trials would begin
But they pushed through the clouds with a recusant grin
Knowing full well the road would be rough

March on the sun
Then return in great glory
For endless millennia
They’ll tell of this story

March on the sun
Or you’ll wither in shame
As your actions dishonour
Your family name

The heat of the sun grew, each second that passed
Til they came within range of it’s tendrils at last
And a beacon blew out with a terrible blast
Engulfing the horrified crowd

The flames soon receded, and left in their wake
A sordid reminder of mankind’s mistake
The heat caused their petulant bodies to break
And disperse as a wet, bloody cloud

March on the sun
Like a nuke that we orbit
Our masses combined
We can hope to absorb it

March on the sun
Melted flesh in the void
Home floated the heroes
Completely destroyed

If the sun rises in the East, and sets in the West, why is there sunlight up North huh? It’s all lies!

Space

This poem explores the hypothetical question; What would happen if two lovers were suddenly transported into space with no protective gear? Obviously, it would be a bit of a disaster, unless an unlikely rescuer were to appear and whisk them away. Then again, being in the custody of an alien being with no understanding of humans and their ability to withstand space may not end well either!

Space

If I was in space, and you were too
I’ve no idea what we would do
No atmosphere, so we would die
The sun quite close, so we would fry

And, in due time, both me and you
Would dissipate as blobs of goo
An alien out for a ride
Would drag this jellied stuff inside

With science far beyond our minds
He’d reconstruct his gooey finds
In wonder and in awe we’d race
Towards the window, gaze at space

Believing we were ready now
He’d nod, you’d curtsey, and I’d bow
He’d launch us out, we’d twist and jerk
Exploding like a firework

We might get arrested by the space police for being drunk and dissipaterly

Party Jumper

This is another poem that I have chosen for my birthday. Again, not because it accurately represents what I am like or how I will be spending my birthday, but because it is vaguely related in theme. I have a rather nice jumper that I like to jokingly refer to as my party jumper because, surprise surprise, I used to wear it to parties and other special events.

This poem explores what would happen if such a jumper had a mind of it’s own and was able to control the mind of whoever wore it to get it’s party fix. The party jumper has no respect for dignity, propriety, money, or health. It lives to party. It knows nothing else.

Party Jumper

Party jumper knows what’s up
Pick it up and put it on
Party jumper knows what’s up
Inhibitions all but gone

Party jumper knows what’s up
Green and black in crazy swirls
Party jumper knows what’s up
Music, booze, and pretty girls

Party jumper knows what’s up
If you wear this party top
Party jumper knows what’s up
The party times will never stop

A rare picture of the party jumper at rest

My Birthday

Today is my 21st birthday! Woohoo! This poem is, in case you hadn’t guessed, about a birthday! It’s not about my birthday (despite the title) and the person in the poem is much more of a partyer than I am but I thought it was appropriate for the day anyway. What makes my birthday particularly exciting this year is that I handed in the final pieces of work for my degree yesterday and had my last day of teaching so I’m finished at uni (excluding graduation)!

My Birthday

It’s my birthday
But it’s way better than that
Girl come closer
Can you see my party hat?

Count the candles
That’s how long I’ve been alive
Fire hazard
Don’t know how long I’ll survive

Piles of presents
Piles of futures and of pasts
I’d unwrap them
But I really can’t be arsed

People singing
Wishing me a happy day
Party starting
All my mates are on their way

Birthday drinking
As I swing my birthday hips
Drunken babble
As I move my birthday lips

Let’s go shopping
Make our way round HMV
Then we’ll go home
Play some Wii sports on the Wii

Order dinner
I am fiending a chinese
Chicken Chow Mein
Ooh you got me on my knees

It’s my birthday
But it’s way better than that
Girl come closer
Can you see my party hat?

It begins

I Have To Be Brief

I wanted to see what would happen if I forced myself to write a poem when I was feeling utterly uninspired. Despite having not the slightest inclination to write a poem or the faintest clue what to write about, I whipped out my phone and started typing. In hindsight, perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered.

I Have To Be Brief

There’s not much time
So I have to be brief
There are no badgers
In the barrier reef

There’s not much light
So I have to be dark
There are no killer whales
In Kensington Park

I’m sure that nobody
Cares anymore
But I found an umbrella
In my underwear drawer

Wedding

Two of my friends recently got engaged. In my excitement, I spewed out this poem.

Wedding

The groom in black, he looked disarming
Standing in the narrow aisle
Bluebirds tweeted ‘Ain’t he charming?’
Mouth bent up in half a smile

The bride in white, she looked enchanting
Dress train trailing ‘cross the floor
Bluebirds in the rafters chanting
‘She’s a beauty, that’s for sure’

She reached the front and they joined hands
With only moments left unwed
The bluebirds swept down o’er the stands
And pooped on everybody’s heads

Don’t look at me! It’s bad luck!

The Man With A Fish For A Heart

This is a poem about crazy future medicine. We already use animal parts for some medical procedures, such as heart valves and stuff, but what if we could replace internal organs with entire animals that functioned as a second miniature body to support our own?

In this limerick, a man has had a life-saving operation that replaced his failing heart with a fish. However, it is not just the heart of the fish that becomes part of the man. It’s mind, it’s instincts, and it’s innermost desires begin to manifest themselves in his behaviour with strange results.

The Man With A Fish For A Heart

The man with a fish for a heart
Awoke in the night with a start
And started to crave
Salty water to bathe
But his bed was too warm to depart

This can’t end whale