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Lost Father - moved from Poetry Corner

The prisoner standing in the dock
picking his nose like fury
he rolled it up in little balls
and flicked them at the jury.

Anon.
 
You silver-tongued ol' bastard. I guess I'm obliged to do so now.
@Arte_et_Marte I want you to know that I've reported you to you for moving this thread. It's getting all silly now and has lost the romantic charm it had over on the other side. Look, there's someone who's just posted a peom about bogeys. It's slid a long way from a pleasing sentimental post about a young princess remembering her hero dad or something. See.

@Skunkmeister has asked me to report you to you and I have. Please speak sternly to yourself please.

sorry, I meant @guzzijon , not Skunky.





innit.

editted for speeling and for getting names wrong and general shitness (who hasn't posted yet).
 
Mary had a little lamb
she put it in a bucket .........................
 

Arte_et_Marte

ADC
Moderator
@Arte_et_Marte I want you to know that I've reported you to you for moving this thread. It's getting all silly now and has lost the romantic charm it had over on the other side. Look, there's someone who's just posted a peom about bogeys. It's slid a long way from a pleasing sentimental post about a young princess remembering her hero dad or something. See.

@Skunkmeister has asked me to report you to you and I have. Please speak sternly to yourself please.

sorry, I meant @guzzijon , not Skunky.

innit.

editted for speeling and for getting names wrong and general shitness (who hasn't posted yet).

Your report has been noted, and I am grateful to you for bringing it to my attention. I will attack myself with a spoon as soon as I get time.

Just to clarify, I never moved the thread. The reasons as to why such a beautifully crafted poem should be moved from a serious forum and placed here are beyond my ken.
 
@Arte_et_Marte I want you to know that I've reported you to you for moving this thread. It's getting all silly now and has lost the romantic charm it had over on the other side. Look, there's someone who's just posted a peom about bogeys. It's slid a long way from a pleasing sentimental post about a young princess remembering her hero dad or something. See.

@Skunkmeister has asked me to report you to you and I have. Please speak sternly to yourself please.

sorry, I meant @guzzijon , not Skunky.





innit.

editted for speeling and for getting names wrong and general shitness (who hasn't posted yet).

Well done Crepello, that'll show 'em
that doughty verse or flow'ry poem,
Should ne'er be cast into the hole
by those who lack a human soul,
Or moved to the satanic fiery pit
reserved for doggerel of shit
Now return to base for tea and medals
run like fuck or whirl those pedals.
Before the Mod beast doth notice thee
and smite you with points a-plenty
Add them up to make a score
And you'll not be seen here no more.
 
Nah, no chance of a ban for me. Not since Man_in_Black tried it on, after I posted the romantic photo of a lady and her hound expressing their mutual admiration and love for one another. He called it bestial pornography, the horrid little man. It was clearly art, nothing less.

I'm invincible, me.








what, eh, OK I'll come quietly - sorry Mods.
 

Arte_et_Marte

ADC
Moderator
Nah, no chance of a ban for me. Not since Man_in_Black tried it on, after I posted the romantic photo of a lady and her hound expressing their mutual admiration and love for one another. He called it bestial pornography, the horrid little man. It was clearly art, nothing less.

I'm invincible, me.






what, eh, OK I'll come quietly - sorry Mods.

But was the House of Commons forum the proper place to post it on?

Oh. Hang on...
 
The reasons as to why such a beautifully crafted poem should be moved from a serious forum and placed here are beyond my ken.

I thought that the reason it was moved to the NAAFI was so we could all point and laugh at it, like a common lunatic in a Victorian asylum but without the risk of it flinging it's own dung at us.
 
D

Djelli Beybii

Guest
Mary had a little lamb,
She tied him to a pylon,
ten thousand volts, shot up his arse,
And turned his wool to nylon.
 

FORMER_FYRDMAN

LE
Book Reviewer
It's June, that's close enough. Here's a classic of the genre:

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."
 

Yokel

LE
It's June, that's close enough. Here's a classic of the genre:

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."

Because it was Christmas he was not shot for sleeping on duty.
 

FORMER_FYRDMAN

LE
Book Reviewer
Because it was Christmas he was not shot for sleeping on duty.

It's milestone in poetry and an iconic cultural ornament for the human race, I demand that you show more respect.
 
It's June, that's close enough. Here's a classic of the genre:

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
Wanking like a bored chimp
To sex on the 'phone.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
I'd come in the halls
I'd spanked it to death
I'd wrung out my balls

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
There's fuck-all in this gaff
Worth nicking by me

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND
And massive long turds
Though my shit was unplanned

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
And all sorts of tat,
Baron Shortthouse lived here
The big walty twat

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A cunt
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE Dickhead LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS Like a potato
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
Just HOW I PICTURED
the massive defrauder

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
Looked more like a zero
With no fackin' bed

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
Had been taken in by this bluffer
This absorber of light.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD say
The Baron is coming
Run away, run away.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
Not this LYING cunt HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WANDER
I'm Santa It's my job
Anyway back to the story
Of this big Christmas knob

THE VERY THOUGHT of this plonker
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I kicked him in the bollocks
AND spat in his eye

THE Fibbing tool AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA I deserve my bruised plums
THEse lies Are MY CHOICE;

I dont FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I'm ASKing FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY bullshit,
Jesus my balls are red raw"

THE Fuckwit ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO kick him in the bollocks

THEN THE 'SOLDIER' ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE cunning and cagey,
WHISPERED, "I'm in the SASS,
And the boathouse is beigey."

And with that I conceded defeat
The force in this walt is much stronger than me
Merry fucking Christmas
 

Arte_et_Marte

ADC
Moderator
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
Wanking like a bored chimp
To sex on the 'phone.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
I'd come in the halls
I'd spanked it to death
I'd wrung out my balls

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
There's ****-all in this gaff
Worth nicking by me

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND
And massive long turds
Though my shit was unplanned

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
And all sorts of tat,
Baron Shortthouse lived here
The big walty twat

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A ****
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE ******** LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS Like a potato
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
Just HOW I PICTURED
the massive defrauder

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
Looked more like a zero
With no fackin' bed

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
Had been taken in by this bluffer
This absorber of light.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD say
The Baron is coming
Run away, run away.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
Not this LYING **** HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WANDER
I'm Santa It's my job
Anyway back to the story
Of this big Christmas knob

THE VERY THOUGHT of this plonker
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I kicked him in the bollocks
AND spat in his eye

THE Fibbing tool AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA I deserve my bruised plums
THEse lies Are MY CHOICE;

I dont FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I'm ASKing FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY bullshit,
Jesus my balls are red raw"

THE Fuckwit ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO kick him in the bollocks

THEN THE 'SOLDIER' ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE cunning and cagey,
WHISPERED, "I'm in the SASS,
And the boathouse is beigey."

And with that I conceded defeat
The force in this walt is much stronger than me
Merry ******* Christmas

That's what arrse poetry is all about.

The abuse of the classics.

Have a 'like'.
 

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