Apolopathetic.

I'm sorry with porridge
I'm sorry with cheese.

I'll learn Flatley's foot-tap
If it'll put you at ease.

I'm a sorry piece of sushi
I'm a sorry mushed banana.

I'll commission a sorrowful song
Composed by Santana.

I'm a remorseful hand-stand
I'm a remorseful karate chop.

I'll repent with a high dive
I'll jump right from the top.

I'm remorsefully cart-wheeling
I'm remorsefully skip-jumping.

And if foot-taps and songs and reverse three and a half somersault tucks are just not enough...

Well then, you can give me a thumping.

Competitive Haiku

Hello and welcome
Below is competitive
Haiku, it's awesome

Amanda set theme
Anna and Matt scribbled good
Anna won, me cry.

Now you chose me please
I am poem (a), she (b)
Vote for me or else.

Poem 1 - Theme: Elephant.

(a)
Inner city dung
Elephants having no fun
No sadder song sung.

(b)
Slippery water
Scales eyes fangs circulating
Not an elephant.

Poem 2 - Theme: Serenity.

(a)
Serenity, bam!
Clanging banging boom-boxing
No space for silence.

(b)
Jigging in the barn
Check shirts hayseed hoedown ho
Serenity blues.

Poem 3 - Theme: Curious

(a)
Curious pussy
Suffering from the V.D
Discovery blows.

(b)
Ours called curious
Snowy morning jandals lawn
What is your hen called?

Poem 4 - Theme: Egg-pan

(a)
Little cute egg pan
Innocently killing youth
Death tastes good today.

(b)
Stop walking on shells
Pick me up, stop tentative
Crack me in your pan.

Poem 5 - Theme: Time

(a)
Universal beat
Is it? Isn't it? Is it?
Einstein's conundrum.

(b)
Never there on time
Running playing, should be there
Disobedient.

Bonus Lurid Poem - Theme: Poos

Shit Bell ring-a-ding
Achtung, out of the water
Skids on ocean sands.

Like the rapping world, poem-battles often end in shoot-outs.

Two, Maybe Three Poems On Indecision.

Poem One.

Skadinkle, the sound of a question mark,
Skadunkle, the whiff of an ostrich fart.

Purrfinkle, I don't know where to start,
Purrfunkle, the beat of a mongoose heart.

Rizzwinkle, maybe I'm not that smart,
Rizzwunkle, a hic-cupping skylark.

Jaahunkle, it's a wobbly dart,
Jaahinkle, a cockerspaniel's bark.


Poem Two.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

I woke up.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

I brushed my teeth.

But I'm not so sure....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Talk to me.

Can't you see I'm dramatic and...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Interesting?!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Maybe I shouldn't though.

Can you help me?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

I bought a coffee.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Really loud...

Oh. Aah. Oh.

Big Boy.

 
Just walking along
Singing no song
But then I drop to the ground and do fifty.

And I'm back on my feet
Who knows who I will meet
But then I'm back doing press ups coz they're nifty.
 
And I walk some more
Shake hands with man-whore
But then I crush his hand coz he was sifty.

And I find a tree
Just an ordinary tree
But then I'm doing chin-ups till I'm wifty

And I think I'll go to the gym
Except I don't go to the gym
But then I bench press a horse coz  I'm thrifty.

Breasts.

Looking at breasts
I am Looking at breasts

Looking @ one breast
Looking @ two breasts

I am Looking at breasts
Just Looking at breasts

Are you honestly looking at breasts?
Yes I am honestly looking at breasts.

I am Looking at breasts
We're all Looking at breasts.

Breasts.

I am looking at the word breasts
You can look at it too

It looks weird to me
Does it look weird to you?

Perhaps it's time to write the word
...mamammararee.

What you looking at then?

Topical and Encompassing.

I'm encompassing the planet, all of it. Below are two acrostic poems about 'the world game'. One spells the word SOCCER, which is what we Kiwis, them Aussies and those Yanks call the game. The other spells FOOTBALL.

S is for Sophia Loren a talented Italian.

O is for olive branch (a young and supple one, not some dry and brittle twig).

C is for cor as in Cor Blimey!

C is for calcium and healthy bones.

E is for Evers-Swindell twins, talented kiwis.

R is for Rooney, Loony, Big Bum Goobie!


F is for feet, duh...

O is for Oo aa Umanga!

O is for Oo aa a nil all draw.

T is for testicles, sometimes referred to as 'balls' (but not footballs, that would just be weird).

B is for bollocks, a solid and expressive word used to describe referee's decisions.

A is for All Whites in Africa, perhaps a little rebranding was in order...

L is for location, location, location (top left hand corner boys).

L is for Lampard, Rampard, Diddle Dum Fartipants!

Meloncauliflower.

Melon:
Pink and Fleshy
No reason to moisturise
Cut with a sharp blade

Then:
Mushy and toothless
Not so hot at crosswords
Prone to breaks and falls

Cauliflower:
Young and peppery
Tight and together
Snap with a stiff wrist

Then:
Yellowing, soft
Fraying and seperate
Cloaked in bechamel

A melancholy flower

Dietary Fibre.

No mischievous innuendo
No misleading false crescendo
This is about dietary fibre.

None of that juvenile chatter
None of that insidious natter
This is about dietary fibre.

Don't contemplate a joke
About the viscosity of coke
This is about dietary fibre.

It is a real affliction                                                      
Not some toilet-based addiction
This is about dietary fibre. 

And this poem has a cause
A chance to think, take time to pause
This is about dietary fibre.

Constipation
Constipation
Constipation

Thank you.




Kiwifruit - an excellent source of Vitamins C & D and dietary fibre.

Not Electricool.

Not ElectriCOOL

ElectriFOOL

Not ElectriFAB

ElectriBAD!

Crazy walls of wire

My light nearly expire

Burning ball of smoke

Two minutes later, take my pulse, cup of tea, on the couch, legs raised up, tellin' a joke*

Not ElectriCOOL

ElectriFOOL

Not ElectriRAD

ElectriBAD

SHOCK-ingly

SHOCK-ingly

True.

* Increase tempo for this line

March.

March,
I forgot about you

If you were more like my appetite this wouldn't have happened.

December was ignored too
But he was full of candy canes and couldn't care less.

But you, March
With your bitching and guilt tripping

Take a hint and get a holiday,
31 days ain't such a boast.*

(*I'm not anti-March per se, it's just that I'm a much bigger fan of April - my favourite month that also celebrates the first anniversary of this blog. I've rewarded April with 2 poems on one day!)

My fridge is cool.

*

1.

Them crook Sunday rellies

that hosed home

ripped across your cash hens.

2.

The hoon

laughing, being grouse

as I brown her.

3.

What the dick bucket?

Take your scarce daisies

gut is for chunder.

End.

(* Nana, looking good at 98! Oh, and Nana in no way endorses taking scarce daisies.)

The Toothfairy.

BAM!
Remember me?
I'm the toothfairy BI*CH!!

But... ... huh?
The softness of the pillow
The final releasing twitch?

Nah-ah!
I couldn't wait
Times have got tough!

But my milky white teeth
Please miss, please miss
Don't be rough.

RETARD!!
BAM!!
BAM!!

Owwwww!
What the ... ?!
That was my adult lateral incisor?!

Miss? Miss?!
I ain't your Miss punk!
Wake up and smell the fist!

... and then I did wake up and the whole thing was just a dream (how silly)* 

*Footnote: Recently one of my readers asked me what I smoke when I write my poems. The answer is crack. I smoke crack.

Highway poems.

For obvious reasons the following poems are dedicated to the Turpins and Anna M.

Very Inconsistent
Carefree Travel
Over Road

Jumpy Approach
Random Reproach
A Horn

Just Up-ahead
Sun Turns Into Night

A New Night Arrives

Mauve, Indigo
Chasing Her Ending Light.
Loving Epitaph.

My Inspiration.

Mugged.

Dick Chainy, no!
Oh God! Dick Chainy, NO!

Dick Chainy
Dick Chainy
Dick Chainy
Dick...

...Chainy,
no!

100 Rupees.

GEORGINA BUSH, NO!
NO,
NO,
NO,
NO,
NO,
GEORGINA BUSH, NO!

No rupees.

Catchya Later

Oh Noo Zeelund with your funny footwear and silly socks

Your bush like an Oompa-Loompa's ... sideburn
and your sea that is so big and wet and turbulent

I do like your pies and your fizzy drinks
and your marginal celebrities

I already miss your sewerage systems
and your carbon neutral taxi companies

Take all glorious vowels and make them an 'eh'
Forever lie about Number 8 wire solutions

Oh Noo Zeelund  I heard you out my caravan window

Your voice like the sweetest X Factor duet
and your lungs scented with pine

And now, I strain my ears to hear you
from Singapore* the tui call is a little faint

And I do miss your schick quattro alps
and your mediocre fashion

And I do miss you

A chocolate map of Tassie, the closest thing I could find to a chocolate map of NZ.

(*Things get a little surreal at this point as my "Catchya later' farewell that started its life on NZ shores is finished in the middle of Changi Airport.)