Conjunctions creak, the adverbs ache,
nouns bear more than they can take.
Verbs are screaming for Ben-Gay
while pronouns atrophy away.
Adjectives have lost their bite,
possessives just give up the fight.
The subject's upset, naught agrees,
which weakens metaphoric knees.
Contractions all together moan;
the objects better left alone.
Ah, life is at a frightful stage
when poets and their poems age.
There’s safety in numbers
I’ve oft heard it said-
Unless there are ninety cows
stuck in a shed.
Those numerous ruminants
Munching on hay
Produce mucho methane
in the course of a day.
Ninety odd bovines
Snacking on grass
Take in the fuel
And produce moos and gas.
Those flatulent heifers
Many cow pies produced
Until a stray spark
blew a hole in the roof.
It was shocking to the farmer
And a blow to the farm,
But at least we take comfort
That not one cow was harmed.
So big this tiny hole opens up
And the sound blasts out so abrupt
The stench suffocates the breathing
Water comes to eyes everywhere
as anal methane fills the air
No one wants to be blamed for
the toxic air un-freshener
Everyone assumes its the bum
and moves away from her
I try to keep a straight face until
I get off the train
Then locate a rest room
and check for stains
Where I live, there's a Cinema Sinking
Built on Methane, Garbage Stinking
Faster food and nighttime drinking
Angry Men and shrinking thinking
School was out, the truant was there
Council Houses, with none to spare
Direct your leisure where I'm blinking
The central point on landfill sinking
Roundabouts, the brownfield sprouts,
The lanes and aisles of market miles
And twisted smiles of weeds are growing,
How I hope this mulchy mountain's going!
Let's return to carbon
Decompose in the sand
Die together hand in hand.
I've been dying to meet someone like you.
Let's let more methane out into the sky
Our skin has been burnt by the shiny sun
Our bones have been frosted
Like the limbs of winter trees,
And our eyes have seen both be done.
I will love you to bits and pieces until
I am bits and pieces.
Let's quit this dying and
Die for what we did
For it was for each other, in which we never lived
I've been dying all my life
To meet someone like you.
What did ya think,
Did ya think,
You could float on with the rest,
Just sink into the mess.
Want some help up,
Did you think you'd help yourself up,
Or maybe you realized
The methane helps me stay alive.
And when you,
Sat there thinking,
With your hands against your palms,
Did you think you could just get up and then sink into my arms.
I neglected to tell you,
I am just a ghost.
I am just a spirit or a memory at most.
Can you see the path
I've made to the stars?
Where moonlight defines
a very good night,
where the moon's fury spills
her soft silver light
over twenty million poets
all at once.
I walk barefoot upon
I write of gentle revolutions,
Saturn turns out to be
my best friend.
My pathway leads back behind
the sparkling pools of Neptune,
the pools much more blue than
its' dense methane skies.
As I sit beneath this tree
wish YOU were here.
(a satirical pop at the Illuminati)
It's time to slay fatted consumer cows
It's time to fumigate the Great Unwashed;
To sow mutation's seeds behind the ploughs
To see the dullard's dreams forever quashed.
How movingly they pray not to be harmed!
How doggedly they work to make a wage!
How prettily they line up to be farmed,
Yet, how they long to be at centre stage!
The Useless Eaters eat their pizzas deep,
Their double fries and creamy mayonnaise;
Produce only some methane while asleep,
And fodder for landfill, throughout their days.
It's time for the superiors to win;
Unleash the virus, let the cull begin.
I have dreams, as you,
Most I can't recall,
One stands out firm though
Like blood on a white washed wall;
A pillar of light descends
And turns night into the day.
Raising us up from this world
To the abduction that we crave.
I've not been here that long,
Yet I feel I've seen enough.
The pain, the joy, the girls, the boys
There is no need for love...
As we ascend toward the sky
It's the stellar that I yearn.
To glide amongst the solemn stars
Never to return.
But consciousness comes calling,
Back to this world I sadly wake,
For I shall never see the stars up close
Nor Titans methane lakes.