Category: Poetry

Recalcitrant Scurvy Sufferer

Post author By joegreathead
Post date September 18, 2020
2 Comments on Recalcitrant Scurvy Sufferer

I don’t like fruit, and you can’t force me,
I’d rather eat some rancid horse-meat.
Banana is a garbage food
(I really wish it tasted good).

The doctor whinges in my ear:
“Your teeth’ll fall out in the year.”
I hadn’t dreamt’ this food with seeds
Would blight me with antique disease.

This pirate sickness I have got;
My bleeding gums and fungal rot –
It really is the pits it’s true,
My skin has gone all red and blue.

However, Doc;

Despite the ample evidence,
You’d think I’d be quite off the fence.
Yet even in the face of this,
You give me citrus, I will hiss.

I will not eat that wicked fruit!
I will not Doc, you silly brute!
I’ve not got love for watermelon;
Apples make in me a felon;
Passionfruit and sour lemon –
I’d send them all to Outer Yemen.

Tags fruit, Greathead, pirate, poem, poem about pirates, poem about scurvy, scurvy

Poetry

What will I find inside the fridge
A bit of food? Just a smidge?
I’m positive I’m almost starving
My stomach sits there cruelly laughing
But once I’m there I’m struck with wonder –
Hunger has been cast asunder.

Perhaps I only came this night
To worship at its’ thrumming light
I only ate within the hour
Such are fridges’ awesome power

A catch-all existential quest
To stop the dread inside my chest
A hopeful source of some elation
Food puts dread on swift probation
The fridge for most, is this location.
It’s either that, or masturbation.

Tags fridge, humor, Poetry

Poetry

A Dog

Outsource your happiness to a dog

When you can.

Humans aren’t particularly good at happiness

But dogs are.

They’ve mastered it, so take note.

Throw a ball, or catch one

Sniff a butt or two

Lift your leg every once in a while

And show em’ what you’ve got.

We don’t know why dogs are so happy

But a dog can suck it’s own cock,

Maybe that has something

To do with it?

Tags Poetry

Poetry

“Dem Boids”

(a poem told from the perspective of my dog, Rudy)

Dem Boids is a skritchin’

I know dey is out dere

I heard dem outside, just den.

I’ll just pop out dis mornin

To gives thems’ a barking

Dat cat from next door,

I seen him dere, too.

I’ll keep barking at boids

Til you get up and feed me

And den, just a little bit

After as well.

Tags birds, dogs, Poetry

Poetry

Seagull

The Seabird flies its’ salty route

Through endless seas of ill-repute

It’s coming home to see its’ kin

A month or two it’s really been

Since it left to find some berries

Instead it found the Manly ferry

And met a lovely man named Terry

Who thought it right to give it some

Lasagna bake and half a scone

The seagull fam will eat tonight

The future’s never looked so bright

The seagull flaps with all his might

To get home in time for dinner.

Poetry

The Pinger Slinger

Hidden on the dancefloor, the slinger awaits

He’s got pills to sell at competitive rates

He’ll give you good rates if you purchase in bulk

The slingers are truly hospitable folk

Turn left at the speaker, up next to the bar

If you pass two girls pashing, you’ve gone much too far

Go ask him if you can get 2 for a fifty

You might get a deal – and that would be nifty

And snort the thing up off a bench in the loo’s

While the punters around are attempting to poo

These are the things you get upto in clubs

When you’re spending all evening locating drugs

Poetry

Elon Musk Came

On a weekend in Florida, Elon Musk thought

If my Dragon can’t fly, I’ll surely abort

But his Dragon did fly, and it flew to the sky

And it docked with the Russians on its’ very first try

And it’s rumored that the moment the capsule met

With that station in space using 12 thruster jets

That Elon had a feeling of incalculable pleasure

To launch such a rocket is truly a treasure

If we dock our first try; he said on his rants

There’s an excellent chance I may come in my pants

Poetry

Abandoned Netflix Series

In a row in my Netflix marked ‘Continue Watching’

Are the shows that I may feel that Hollywood is botching

Remaining half seen, bereft and alone

Taunting me as I scroll through at home

I never did finish that Tiger King show

That everyone says is so thrilling

And I’m sure it’s been making a killing

I sadly was simply not willing

Poetry

Iso Blues

There are riots on the telly

A few more inches on the belly

Unemployment is starting to rise

The economy is sickening

Anxiety is quickening

The veins round our hearts

Are bulging and thickening,

But the book on my nightstand is not getting read

And I’m finding it harder to get out of bed,

But I better just pop out for milk and some bread

Poetry

Sydney Rock Oyster Blues

When the Dugong is grazing

The submarine fields

And the sharks are just larking about

There are clownfish and crayfish

and all sorts of grey fish

A Mackerel who’s being a lout

But the Oyster can’t hang

with the rest of the Gang

For he’s stuck to a rock on the bottom

(And his mouth is the same as his bottom)