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something John Lennon wrote… it always makes me chuckle
Deaf Ted, Danoota (and me)
Thorg hilly gove and burly ive,
Big dalyes grass and tree
WE clobber ever gallup
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.Never shall we partly stray,
Fast stirrup all we three
Fight the battle mighty sword
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.With faithful frog beside us,
Big mighty club are we
The battle scab and frisky dyke
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.We fight the baddy baddies,
For colour race and cree
For Negro Jew and Bernie
Deaf TEd, Danoota, and me.
Thorg Billy grows and Burnley ten,
And Aston Villa three
We clobber every gallup
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.So if you hear a wonderous sight,
Am blutter or at sea,
Remember whom the mighty say
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me –
(sometimes we bring our friend, Malcolm.)Feel free to add any poems or ditties you know that were penned by other famous bods. :D
The Severed Garden (Adagio)
Wow, Im sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings.
The servants have the power
Dog-men and their mean women
Pulling poor blankets over
Our sailorsIm sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the tv
Tower, I want roses in
My garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
Must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
For the plant that’s ploughed.They are waiting to take us into
The severed garden
Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
Comes death on a strange hour
Unannounced, unplanned for
Like a scaring over-friendly guest you’ve
Brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
And gives us wings
Where we had shoulders
Smooth as raven’s
ClawsNo more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
Until its other jaw reveals incest
And loose obedience to a vegetable law.I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the giant family.Jim Morrison
Stoned Immaculate
I’ll tell you this
No eternal reward will forgive us now
For wasting the dawn.Back in those days everything was simpler and more confused
One summer night, going to the pier
I ran into two young girls
The blonde was called Freedom
The dark one, Enterprise
We talked and they told me this storyNow listen to this…
I’ll tell you about Texas radio and the big beat
Soft driven, slow and mad
Like some new language
Reaching your head with the cold, sudden fury of a divine messenger
Let me tell you about heartache and the loss of God
Wandering, wandering in hopeless night
Out here in the perimeter there are no starsOut here we is stoned
Immaculate.Jim Morrison
Ghost Song
Awake
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinityFirst thing you see…
A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.Choose they croon the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.Indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind.Jim Morrison
Nicely Nicely Clive
To Clive Barrow it was just an ordinary day nothing unusual or strange about it, everything quite navel, nothing outstanley just another day. But to Roger it was something special, a day amongst days… a red lettuce day….because Roger was getting married and as he dressed that morning he thought about the gay batchelor soups he’d had with all his pals. And Clive said nothing.
To Roger everything was different, wasn’t this the day his Mother had told him about, in his best suit and all that, grimming and shakeing hands, people tying boots and ricebudda on his car.
To have and to harm.. till death duty part…. He knew it all off by hertz.
Clive Barrow seemed oblivious, Roger could visualise Anne in her flowing weddy drag, being wheeled up the aisle, smiling a blessing. He had butterfield in his stomarce as he fastened his bough tie and brushed his hairs.
‘I hope I’m doing the right thing’ he thought looking in the mirror, ‘Am I good enough for her?’ Roger need not have worried because he was.
‘Should I have flowers all around the spokes?’ said Anne polishing her foot rest. ‘Or should I keep it syble?’ she continued looking down on her grain haired Mother.
‘Does it really matter?’ repaid her Mother wearily wiping her sign. ‘He won’t be looking at your spokes anyway.’
Anne smiled the smile of someone who’s seen a few laughs.
Then luckily Anne’s father came home from sea and cancelled the husband.
Penned by Julian Lennon
The wonderful Wendy Cope (through her invented struggling, poetic persona Jason Strugnell) gifts us one of her funny takes on Shakespeare’s Sonnets.. this time around it’s CXVI.
Strugnell’s Sonnets (VI)
Let me not to the marriage of true swine
Admit impediments. With his big car
He’s won your heart, and you have punctured mine.
I have no spare; henceforth I’ll bear the scar.
Since women are not worth the booze you buy them
I dedicate myself to Higher Things.
If men deride and sneer, I shall defy them
And soar above Tulse Hill on poet’s wings —
A brother to the thrush in Brockwell Park,
Whose song, though sometimes drowned by rock guitars,
Outlives their din. One day I’ll make my mark,
Although I’m not from Ulster or from Mars,
And when I’m published in some classy mag
You’ll rue the day you scarpered in his Jag.Wendy Cope
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