It's raining, oo baby it's raining
Since I can't write passably good poems - never did, never will - I'm going to try Vogon poetry.
The Hitchhiker's Guide defines Vogon poetry thus:
Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master 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 Nobbling Council survived 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.
I have a few ideas, but I'm going to expand my definition of Vogonic poetry. Some reformed kinda torture, methinks. Anyway, I'm thinking of mangled song lyrics and original poems as part of my experiment with Vogon poetry too. (Not strictly legal, but let me see your Ares, and I'll hand myself up to the authorities.) I'm sure you agree with me.
Okay. First one. Not much of an idea. Travis's Why does it always rain on me:
I can't sleep tonight
Everybody's saying everything's alright
Still I can't close my eyes
I'm seeing Voldemort at the end of all these lights
Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling I belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I died when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when the sun is shining
I can't avoid the lightning
I can't stand myself
I'm being held up by old bearded men
Still life on a shelf when
I got my mind on something else
Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling I belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I died when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when Voldy is charming
I can't avoid the lightning
Oh, where did Honeydukes go?
And why is it raining so?
It's so cold
I can't sleep tonight
Everybody's saying everything's alright
Still I can't close my eyes
I'm seeing Voldemort at the end of all these lights
Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling I belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I died when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when the sun is shining
I can't avoid the snogging
Oh, where did the redhead go?
And why is it raining so?
I'm so cold
Why does it always rain on me?
Why does it always rain...
As you can see, this is from the POV of Mr. Harry Potter himself.
Lame?
Lame.
The Hitchhiker's Guide defines Vogon poetry thus:
Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master 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 Nobbling Council survived 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.
I have a few ideas, but I'm going to expand my definition of Vogonic poetry. Some reformed kinda torture, methinks. Anyway, I'm thinking of mangled song lyrics and original poems as part of my experiment with Vogon poetry too. (Not strictly legal, but let me see your Ares, and I'll hand myself up to the authorities.) I'm sure you agree with me.
Okay. First one. Not much of an idea. Travis's Why does it always rain on me:
I can't sleep tonight
Everybody's saying everything's alright
Still I can't close my eyes
I'm seeing Voldemort at the end of all these lights
Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling I belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I died when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when the sun is shining
I can't avoid the lightning
I can't stand myself
I'm being held up by old bearded men
Still life on a shelf when
I got my mind on something else
Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling I belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I died when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when Voldy is charming
I can't avoid the lightning
Oh, where did Honeydukes go?
And why is it raining so?
It's so cold
I can't sleep tonight
Everybody's saying everything's alright
Still I can't close my eyes
I'm seeing Voldemort at the end of all these lights
Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling I belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I died when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when the sun is shining
I can't avoid the snogging
Oh, where did the redhead go?
And why is it raining so?
I'm so cold
Why does it always rain on me?
Why does it always rain...
As you can see, this is from the POV of Mr. Harry Potter himself.
Lame?
Lame.
Labels: Vogon poetry
posted by Lynn at
4:54 pm
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