Am I Being Poetical?

[OTheHugeRaveningWolef]

At this time of year it is seasonable
For opinions twatty or treasonable.
But could it be time
To declaim them in rhyme?
Mumsnet, am I being unreasonable?

Doggerel my friend
Behind the times I am, cast
Free from convention

(Haiku)

Oi! Fuck off you cunt!
To the far side of fuck, and
then fuck off some more

(Fuck-ku)

September leaves fall,
Recall pastry flaking from
my Greggs sausage roll.

Although Belle & Snoop
Your poignant words are making
Urine trickle down

If we all had the same point of view
We'd end up like Net huns mums who
Lol, kiss and hun
and are too thick to pun
And can't understand our Ayboo

This place often has me in stitches
(Even the armpit vagina pictures)
My daughter's neglected
And often subjected
To quotes from bjullying bjitches

There's nothing much more I can do
To add to this veritable trove
Of literary genius
(Except to shout 'penis!')
And bid you all farewell - aroooooooo!
Such as bjitch, cunt, twunt

My children really should be fed
but I just can't be bovvered
because I'm writing po-er-tree
And now I think I'm Ovid

I Think I'll go to Mackyd's
and get somefink nutritious
or maybe give them some nice ham
then make them do the dishes

Oh no, they're only six and two
and cannot reach the sink!
but do you think I would BU
to have a little drink?

Then forth from their quiches they rode in their might
To do battle with trolls old and new.
And before them a swarm ran, loud voices in fright
'Do they think that I'm trolling now too?'

'You bjullying bjtches! How dare you all hunt me
All I asked was for you to agree
I'm no troll! No fight-stirrer! No stupid wee cunt, me
I just think Aptamil should be free!'

what an odd thread,
I think I'll go to bed
as in this is doing my head
(sorry about the odd arrangement - maybe should have ended line with a proposition instead?)

I suppose I should make tea
This is only the seventh meal from this chicken
Do you think
It died in vain?

It is all lost
The morsels of flesh that hang
From its dry carcass
They are fit only for the flies now

I enjoyed the hour gone too much
In my joy, cracked open a beer
& now I can't be arsed.

Stay,Spidey we are trap-ed in this witchcraft
Two souls, merged as one within this sorcery of rhyme
Cursed to wander this desolate land of unreasonableness
Whilst the children we have born of our own loins languish,
Starved, un-nurtured, cast upon the cultural wilderness of CITV (for they hold the remote themselves)

But soft, what light approaches?
Fuck me, it's DH's car

Do Not Mock Me,
Oh coven of wolefs.

I
Am
Mumsnet.

I
Am
Not
Andrew
Motion.

(Though I am in Motion
When in my Car.
And I am
E
Motion
Al.
And
I Have
Travelled (Oh! Widely!)
on a
Loco
Motion.
Though not
with Great Western
Who are not Great;
But Shit.)

I speak with the thousand voices
Of the bewombed;
I speak from the heart, the chest
Of breastfeeding mothers;
The breasts hanging,
Like a Hush Puppy Dog's ear.
Keeping our raging, discontented knees
Warm.

Warm.

Warm

Belle you are genius

Really

Really

Really

I wandered lonely as a chump
That dosses about with tramps and bums,
When all at once I saw a clump,
A host, of glittering Netmums;
Beside the paddling pool, beneath the trees,
Sparkling and hunning in the breeze.

Continuous as the sequins that shine
And twinkle on the mars bar milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Fighting for a P&C parking bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sparkly dance.

The tickers beside them ticked; but they
Out-did the sparkling tickers in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such vajazzled company:
I gazed -and gazed -but little thought
What repulsion the show to me had brought:

For oft, when in my sandpit I lie
In vacant or in shitty mood,

They glitter upon that inward eye
Which is the pisser of solitude;
And within my bowels lest I forget,
Thank fuck I joined Mumsnet.

Do you Think,
Oh Dog Of Snoop
That I
Do Not Know?

Genius,
I Am.

I Am
Einstein;
Curie;
Newton;
Newton-John.

(Who Is John?
And WHY
Is the Newton him?)

Newts
Are creatures
Who Reside
In Ponds.

(Amy Pond?
You
Need
A
Longer
SKIRT. )

Ponds
Cold Cream.
As Cold As His Hands.
As Cold As His Heart.
Cold.

COLD.

Cold

The issue of my womb
Adrift on a rug
The flickering light
Of the idiots' latern
Their mother now

Eating noodles
Slurping succor
From a plastic bowl
Whilst she
Who once nutured
Laughs
& slurps her own succor
From an entirely different recepticle.

Small hands reach
Searching
To be met with a fistful of haribo
But oh
What fun
What blinding joy
To abandon
the weight

If only for a while

Belle

your

stream

of

consciousness

is

tickling

me.

Enormously.

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Yes.
I shall.
You make my skin burn.
And there are insects all around you.

You.

YOU.

You

Belle, Belle, Belle
So good
So Sweet
So pure

You ring
Such clarity
Flawless
Lucid

But your end

Is covered in smegma

Get thee to a hunnery, why would'st thou be a breeder of PFBs?

The twattage
Of your
Attempts
At poetry
Belong in one of those
Rip-off book
They do in schools
Which cost £15.

For £15
I could buy
A train ticket
To Kidderminster.

(Fond memories
Of Greggs cakes.
Raspberry icing,
pink as some
Shit
From ELC.)

ELC
not ELO
Who were not an orchestra
At all.
At all.
They
Lie.

LIE.

Lie

And the Ice Queen rose from her fur strewn throne
And bade the wolef approach
'Have you done my bidding?'
The wolef did not reply but hung his great head low.

The Queen let back her head
and roared a mighty roar that struck fear in the wolef
'Now is my time' she screamed
'Now are the innocent unprotected'

She called for her chariot
And swept forth through the icy wastes
Forward through the dark night skies
Swiftly over the whole earth

And silently dropped into the unsuspecting rooms
And as silently left, but not alone
And as the women felt the chill draft and rose in fear
They knew they were undone

Small

Meek

Innocent

The seed planted by the wolef on that Autumn Afternoon

When tended grew

and grew

Great armies poured forth from the mouth of Shiva

And Gia trembled

And from the seed

A monster born

For it shall be known
unto the brave
children shall come
keep them close
others will offer advice
forsake it as you would
flotsam on a lonely beach
yeah though you little know
of this you can be sure
unto those who seek
can come the greatest love
until you take this to your heart
never shall you rest
trust the mumsnet rules
stealth boast when you can

You sweary blaggard!
With teeth like wolefs
You bark
"fuck"
from manky fleeces.

Yes!
Fleeces!
And you fleeced me
By getting me to
Write Poems on here
For no fee.

I suppose you will
Sell them
On ebay.

Put the money
Towards a fleece;
You fucking cow.

Your fleece may
Keep you warm
In the Winter:

Your fleece may
attract male wolefs
to your minnie.

Your fleece may
Lead you
To London Fashion Week.

But your fleece
will never hide
Your Gunt.

Never.

NEVER.

Never

And yeah
Righteously, they spill from their towers
sneering, with teeth barred
Enlightening others with their homilies of hatred
Go tell them how to live their lives
Really? The wavering voice of the cowed masses pipes tremulously
AIBU
Verily, they scream down upon them, for YOU HAVE SINNED
Yes, maybe IABU the whisper of lost souls ventures, as the whirlwind whisks their carapace away.