Amphigouri

Lewis Carroll and Mother Goose, Spike Milligan and Dr. Seuss... write 1 nonsensical piece of  verse, in the grand tradition of the writers  mentioned .

No collabs
1 entry only
No pictures

Have FUN!

Bari Air Raid


SNAAP!!
Went the bedsheets, but better
As the algae umbrella
Resounded a miniature
Prison break... on ice.

Premature maggots
were shocked to a gallop;
rending these penitent angels to fumble
impending sweet phenoty-genocide.

The eschaton fallout
rained mists-es of chemo,
blessing the cavalry- 'SWARP'
to piss itself bravely,
'tween pesticide backdrafts OF GOD.

Droves of germs jockeyed for saddle
prodding their steedy-flop cattle along.

Stirrups dangled
from spastic wet talons
like paranoid brats
impaled upon 'bandoning-tits.

Slurping to noxious
reverbs in time,
the angels gurgled
in tiny sick prayers
indistinguish'ble much
from a water heater... to a dog.

FireCRACKers o' pus under arm,
made off-key harmonious squeals
as the angels and maggots
en masse congealed,
humping the buttery mattress film.

Thus, was the mural
of my Cistern Chapel,
prior my nine-eleven living room.

A perilous print I'll prob'ly pin-up
POST sterilizing the bathroom.

Jump!

Stars and constellations
supernova space stations
there's a deep, dark land
just past your imagination's
jump with eyes shut
mouth closed
roof open
no-one has ever been
where we'll soon be going

stochastic monastic

i'd like to slip her the old rubber band,
if you know what i'm saying (overly bombastic)
but where would i slip such a slithery strand
and why wouldn't she slap my hand
when i grope her too iconoclastic?

most would say she makes them hard
and that's coolly impersonal (so onomastic!)
but every hint of priapsis for me is too lard
stiff as a slinky i'm so avant-garde
my sin stick is so ecclesiastic

the problem is that i cannot see
what holes i can reach (starched elastic!)
cuz her power over me
is her invisibility
so i'll just fuck me, Mr. Fantastic

On Saturday or Sunday
I saw a fair maid in a tizz
She said that she went all the way
To find the land of fizz

All that she had found
Was a dog and a cat
Asleep on the ground
What was the good of that

The dog and the cat had a field day
Upon the broad village green
They invited the cow to join them
For her company and to give cream

The cow returned to her meadow
Having eaten too much of her tea
The farmer saw from his window
And decided to go up and see


He looked at the draft that was penned
And decided it was over the top
He rang up the poet, his friend
Who agreed this tale had to stop

Crocodile and Giraffe

The crocodile and giraffe, they'd remark,
Met on a hill with the flood all around.
While the croc did sun, thinking what a lark,
The gira stretched for leaves to be found
On those few trees above the water mark,
Amusing the croc for whom fish did abound.

The lady crocodile and gentleman giraffe
Enjoyed the company fate had bestowed.
At each other's eating habits both could laugh.
Humour put them on the romantic road.
You think croc and gira mating is naff?
Wrong. Their erotic passion did explode.

On what kind of child they could not agree.
She wanted his long neck and her gnasher teeth
To catch geese nesting in one big tree.
Long front legs with her swishy tail beneath
He thought would get leaves to mouth quite carefree.

The babe arrived with patches yellow and black,
No big teeth but mum's swishy tail to the rear.
Dad's long legs but hers short at the back.
Mum moaned:'This groc will give none any fear'.

When he grew up he found a career
Kids would slide down his neck, yellow and black
In the fun park, until reaching his rear
When, with his swishy tail, he gave them a final whack
To the tent where parents were drinking beer.

(inspired by my son, when aged about two, who asked his heavily pregnant child-minder whether she was going to give birth to a crocodile or  to a giraffe and which would she prefer)

Of Cemetary Dreams (And Nightmare Scapes)
awoke again to the sounds of death
the creeping silence of restless breath
the sounds I hear I cannot mistake
only death can sound this way

I feel the sun upon my face
enraptured in its warm embrace
within my eyes I see its glow
even though my eyes are closed

a whispered wind invades my ear
I feel the world that I can hear
the channeled sounds of lifeless life
the lonely cries of those who have died

I open my eyes to see the sun
and find the world has come undone
a dark eclipse shades my face
lost within a shadowed embrace

markers with dates of death descend
as far as my eyes can transcend
in every direction I can see
the stones of death surrounding me

wilted flowers with decaying leaves
symbols of love from those who grieve
tattered angels with broken wings
left by those who truly believe

the leaves within the trees have gone
skeletal beings with demon claws
scratching and clawing at the wind
coming to life again and again

I turn to find a place to run
looking to see the warming sun
but the black and grey in the sky
pulls the color from my eyes

from the clouds the rain falls down
it floods my soul and my spirit drowns
below my feet the muddy ground
swallows my shoes and keeps me bound

I hear the whispers of the living dead
their cries for life echo through my head
I cover my ears to mute the screams
but it seems that they re inside of me

to my knees into the mud
I tilt my head to the shadowed sun
I scream aloud at the sky
to silence deaths woeful cries

the falling rain stings my eyes
and burns the color to lifeless white
streams of blood flow down my face
within my mouth the salty taste

I push the mud with my hands
with all my might I try to stand
to my thighs the mud has crept
and now my arms are elbow deep

I feel the muck against my skin
it moves and pulls and draws me in
I strain and fight to break its grasp
until I feel I might collapse

I scream and cry and beg for help
even though I'm by myself
into the wind my lonely pleas
melding with the dead that scream

as whispers creep into my ears
the sounds of death is what I hear
my own demise before my eyes
among the stones of death that rise

peering through the rains that blind
upon a stone my name I find
carved within the granite face
its here that is my resting place

the ground has drawn me to my grave
the trees were clawing at this place
the whispered voices were trying to say
that everything will be ok

to just let go and wait and see
the whispers were meant to comfort me
to try ease my rising fears
even though I refused to hear

the sun reflects on the granite face
the flowers feel its warm embrace
upon the ground I feel its glow
even though my eyes are closed

wilted flowers with drying leaves
left for me by those who grieve
tattered angels with broken wings
left on my stone for company

the whispered voices in the wind
rising up to sing again
a channeled sounds of joyous lives
reunited on the other side

DEMOCRACY SUSPENDED

Some members of the do-nothing Congress
tried their best to finally do something
to repeal the healthcare law
Oxymorons they are who think
they are above the law
Passing a house resolution
that would prevent the majority
from stopping government shutdown
against a single privileged House leader
“Democracy is suspended,” cried my representative
I said mockery of the law is travesty of justice!

Woe to those politicians
who can see, but are blind to the people’s needs
who can hear, but are deaf to their loud protests
who are able and willing, yet are crippled
to do anything for their welfare.
Gone are the days of the statesmen
who put their ambitions and self-interests behind
for the sake of their solemn oath
to serve their countrymen.
What I learned from physics long ago:
“For every action,
there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
I also believe, applies in politics
because whatever those nanodicks are doing,
backfired through their egoistic minds.
I wonder if there are consequences if any
against their giddy acts
threatening economic security
and debt ceiling breach.
Seditious conspiracy comes to mind!

Tick-tock, tick-tock goes the clock
the wolves are hidden in sheep clothing
trying to manipulate the law of the land
to satisfy the needs of their dickhead supporters
and not the interest of their constituents.
They gain nothing with their selfish acts
but the wrath of their non-essential employees.
So called non-essentials,
that’s why they are furloughed
What an irony!
They work hard for their money
efficiently and diligently everyday
What they can accomplish for a day
can’t be matched by the bickering
of their chosen representatives
for the duration of their terms.

Tick-tock, tick-tock…the clock stopped
The non-essential employee was not around
to rewind its hands
Suddenly everyone is watching,
anxiously waiting—
when is the clock going to start ticking?

to run on custard]

custard for breakfast custard for lunch custard for dinner

all i eat is custard
look at me me run
catch me on brainiac the late show
stamping down my brunch
i live on instant custard
my house is made of pie
gilles and birds and all custards
slide straight out the other side
the planet is just custard
left out and gone too dry
a bit of give's the way to live
a little show you mine
and if you stop and think too much
your custard grave
no one will find

Fever dreams

Nonsensical,  
weaving stories more real than reality  
bland tongue can't taste its own demise  
out with it, before the cancer spreads  
iron maiden jacket, draining the flesh  
upon pants of blood, sipping pints of lager  

Four and a half kilos,  
resting on the forehead of destitute  
feeding on the united colors of phlegm  
boiling water can't melt this viscous bile  
unnecessary wait at the scrotum  
leg left dead, the night vomits red  

Classic self,  
addicted to suffering, fucking apathy  
ejaculating wildly into a fruit grinder  
getafix while you're still an idiot  
pretending to eat out of empty boxes  
yeah, this is as real as it gets.

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/120306-fever-dreams/

i don't fully grasp the concept amphigouri. you still have to put up with me though *shrug*

Blasphemy, the work of heathens
Deceit, the tool of kings
Ignorance, for Philistines
And slander, whatever that means
Pride, in those about to fall
Mutiny, from those fallen
Folly, to be found in both
With vice to be found in Holland
Greed is those who lord above
Theft is those below
Wickedness is those alive
Disobedience, those that know
And while these things are commonplace
All born in hearts of men
They are but the stepping stones
To finding peace within

oh, well thanks for the win.. forgot that I even joined this competition to be honest. haha
Congrats to the runners-up, and thanks for hosting this comp. Great idea!