Poetry

[Dekalb_Blues]

"Here is what to do if you want to get a lift from a Vogon: forget it.  They are one of the most unpleasant races in the Galaxy.  Not actually evil, but bad-tempered, bureaucratic, officious, and callous.  They wouldn't even lift a finger to save their own grandmothers from the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal without orders-- signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public inquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters.  The best way to get a drink out of a Vogon is to stick your fingers down his throat, and the best way to irritate him is to feed his grandmother to the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal.  On no account should you allow a Vogon to read poetry at you....

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 members died of internal haemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.  Grunthos is reported have been 'disappointed' by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his twelve-book epic entitled 'My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles' when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save life and civilization, leaped 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, Essex, England, in the destruction of the planet Earth [by the Vogons]."

---- Douglas Adams, The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy


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!

--- Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz


Putty.  Putty.  Putty.
Green Putty - Grutty Peen.
Grarmpitutty - Morning!
Pridsummer - Grorning Utty!
Discovery.....  Oh.
Putty?.....  Armpit?
Armpit.....  Putty.
Not even a particularly
Nice shade of green.
As I lick my armpit and shall agree,
That this putty is very well green.

--- Grunthos the Flatulent


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

--- Paul Neil Milne Johnstone the Earthling


Note: candidature for fourth-worst poet in the Galaxy is a hotly-debated issue, although the consensus is that the unfortunate planet Earth is his or her origin (due to some uniquely deleterious quirk of cosmic-radiation-focus on the neuroaesthetic organs of the Earthlings);  many tout the self-styled Poet McGonagall:

As I chanced to see trouts louping in the River o' Glenshee,
It helped to fill my heart with glee,
And to anglers I would say without any doubt
There's plenty of trouts there for pulling out.

--- Sir William Topaz McGonagall, G.K.H.O.W.E.B. [Grand Knight of the Holy Order of the White Elephant, Burma]


Others plump for Mrs. Ros:

Holy Moses!  Take a look!
Flesh decayed in every nook!
Some rare bits of brain lie here,
Mortal loads of beef and beer.

--- Amanda McKittrick Ros, from "Visiting Westminster Abbey"


Such tendencies (along the lines of the elegiacally-inclined J. Gordon Coogler's

Alas, for the South!  Her books have grown fewer--
She never was much given to literature.

quoted by by H. L. Mencken in his classic "The Sahara of the Bozart," lamenting the state of les beaux arts in the American South) are widespread amongst Earthian poetic effusion-- as can be sampled almost randomly from any number of sources, e.g.:

http://www.uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/W...hort_Poems
http://flavorwire.com/384480/the-absolut...elebrities


Some say the paradigm of "bad" poetry is inadequate, as it doesn't take into account certain perhaps unapparent subtleties:

Bad Poetry

Bad poetry saves lives, bad poetry rhymes.
I write bad poetry.  I'm in the life saving business.
I have about 350 witnesses.  Bad poetry is on
Facebook, it separates humans from cogs.
Bad poetry shows up on blogs.  I also write easy
Poetry.  Easy poetry is easy to write.  Gender
Poetry is easy to read.  I write that too.  Girl poetry
Is pink.  I write boy poetry, it's blue.  Mature poetry
Is about you.  I write me poetry.  Otherwise known
As free poetry.  It's not expensive or green poetry.
I don't mix two colors to get this poetry.  It's
Pure poetry.  Pure poetry.  Pure poetry.

--- Damon Freed


(and see, e.g., http://www.oholymackerel.blogspot.com/20...-poem.html  and  http://www.oholymackerel.blogspot.com/20...-poem.html )

However all that may be, with the increasing intergalactic cultural diffusion by numerous advanced sentient species one finds focused on said planet Earth one may now more readily find relatively undistorted expressions of poetical sentiment from radically different viewpoints/worldviews, e.g.:


Juvenile Rhyme

Write with your finger in the sand
Write with your finger, make it fit your hand

--- Lakesh [Pleiadian Blue]


http://www.humancolony.org/galactic-poetry[defunct]
-------->Archived: https://web.archive.org/web/201701070648...ic-poetry/
http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poems-about-aliens
http://www.twirpx.com/file/1509931/
http://www.palgrave-journals.com/rm/jour...0144a.html

Cheers.

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