A new art form has been born - Google-oetry. The exterminator of No More Hornets was the first to write a poem, using only the keywords people have used to find his site. I came across this new aesthetic via Riker's fabulous Google-oem Efflorescent.
I thought I'd get mine in early, before this becomes a meme. I'd never noticed how creepily sexual many of the searches leading to Sans God are. The following is not edited in any way, save for the odd comma;
Bollocks, God's smoking again.
My wife needs shagging,
did I just say that out loud?
Well tell me what do you want to hear,
banana fingered god.
It's worth repeating,
my wife needs shagging,
but my diaphragm hurts badly,
need poo desperate toilet,
over egging the pudding?
The bean lord Jesus,
in the bedsit morning light,
smug bastard, silence please,
creating a fruitbattery.
Scooby Doo having sex,
Scooby Doo is God,
willies are sticky,
wife needs shagging,
where can I get endorphins?
A man's perspective on falling in love,
good breasts, god breasts,
Disney horror, bad breasts odour,
bury your wife under the patio.
By the hairs on his chinnychinchin,
there will be no miracles here,
nice breasts, good snaps,
Top 10 crematorium songs.
Metaphors for husbands,
like Grandmas huge belch,
what do you say?
sorry, my dear,
what culture needs to remove pubic hair?
The feline anus,
gods expression of idea?
Bollocks, gods smoking again.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Saturday, 27 October 2007
Monday, 19 March 2007
The Quiet World
In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long
distance lover and proudly say
I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn't respond, I know
she's used up all her words
so I slowly whisper I love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
Jeffrey McDaniel
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