Poets needed for London olympics

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by Taffnp, Apr 17, 2012.

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  1. BBC News - London 2012: Worldwide poets still needed for Festival event

    I wandered lonely as a cloud, pissed as fuck and shouting loud
    The olympics I had come to see, but some big twat had beaten me

    Took my money and my phone
    left me bleeding all alone

    In pain I wandered down the street
    there was no way to send a tweet.

    I called for help, not forthcoming
    now afraid of a hard drybumming

    So this was UK I had heard about
    It's a place I can live without

    All the taxes and the Louts
    Fat bastards too and ticket touts

    Bit stumped to carry on, maybe a few more beers - feel free to add your own poem
    • Like Like x 2
  2. Not a poem i know (there are rhymey bits) but some kind soul has already produced a handy rhyming slang list for the Paralympics

    Bacon rind - Blind
    Canary wharf - Dwarf
    Cardinal Wolsley - Cerebral Palsey
    Raspberry Ripple - Cripple
    Wasps and Bees -Amputees
    Rubber & Plastic - Spastic
    Tulips & Roses - Multiple sclerosis
    Diet Pepsi - Epilepsy
    Benny & the Jets - Tourettes.

    I bet the BBC commentators will find it a boon!
  3. Be a man, not a wog.
    Fuck your wife, not your dog.

    For I am a man, not a wog.
    I fucked your wife and so did my dog.

    So when can I start?
  4. The twenty twelve olympics
    are but a hundred days away
    and when it start's, I know
    I'll be watching something else and probably be realy pissed off by the blanket coverage on all channels!

    The last line needs a bit of work, but otherwise it's a winner.
  5. Stick your overpriced sports day
    Up your arse
    Along with Seb Coe.

    A bit of an Olympic haiku for them
    • Like Like x 2
  6. Run, Run, Run
    Run, Run, Run
    We cant fucking run
    We can't run a bath
    We're the organising commitee
  7. The athletes have gone
    All is silent and empty
    Like Coe's promises

  8. The national olympic dream
    is to find a team
    of negros who
    will run faster than
    the other nations negros do!

    I wonder if that is a banning offence. Suppose I will find out soon enough
  9. The London olympics will be
    remarkably shit, you'll see
    we won't even beat
    a team with no feet
    mind you they'll do better than me
  10. There once was a man named Coe
    Who squandered a nation's dough
    On a massive stunt
    The self-serving cunt
    But no-one wanted to go

    EJ Thribb, 41 and a bit
    • Like Like x 2
  11. Its the real thing
    And we're loving it.
    ........and I am in no way retained by the two major commercial sponsors of London 2012. I have to congratulate LOCOG, they have managed to extinguish any belief in, or desire to watch, the Olympics. I'm sure however, that the huge contingents of smug, self-serving sports administrators and the like will all enjoy using the Zil lanes that ferry them from one free banquet to the next and is playing "spot the despot" amongst their co-participants.
    No, of course I'm not cynical or jaundiced about the Olympics.................
  12. I can't be bothered to run anymore,
    There'll be no gold coloured tin for me,
    Bring back Durchy, he'll be glad I'm sure,
    That I've found a rhyme for binfantry
    • Like Like x 1
  13. Press ups by Core Strife (a Haiku for the London 2012 Olympics)

    I do not under-
    -stand training. Face like thunder.
    Occasional chunder.
  14. Traditional haiku consist of 17 on (also known as morae), in three phrases of 5, 7 and 5 on respectively.[4] Any one of the three phrases may end with the kireji.[5] Although haiku are often stated to have 17 syllables,[6] this is incorrect as syllables and on are not the same.

    Better make it this:

    Up your big fat arse,
    Stick your overpriced sports day
    Along with Seb Coe.
  15. With massive apologies to Auden:

    Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
    Stop Sue Barker's incessant moan,
    Silence the TVs and with a muffled cuss
    Ignore the flame, and the athletes' fuss.

    More helicopters circle filming overhead
    Scribbling out to Sky the message Sport Is Dead,
    Put crappy passes round the necks of public saps,
    Funding the misery yet given the scraps.

    Traffic jams in North, South, East and West,
    Screwing my working week and my Sunday rest,
    TV coverage noon to midnight all day long;
    I thought that it would soon be over: I was wrong.

    The games are not wanted now: LOCOG should go;
    Pack up the goons and fire Lord Coe;
    Pour away the pools and sweep up the wood.
    For nothing now can ever come to any good.