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Question:Pick your preference

I prefer the Vogon poetry on the right  2 (18%)
I prefer the parody from the left  4 (36%)
I'm going to go and read William Topaz McGonagall as an improvement!  5 (45%)
Total Votes: 11 

   Author  Topic: Select your preference  (Read 3213 times)

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« on: 2003-08-19 09:20:14 »
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*William Topaz McGonagall - the world's 2nd worst poet

This post has been edited to attempt to clarify a Deesian misapprehension caused by a complete lack of humor and blissful ability to stare right past satire on the part of the Vogan Poet (one possible reason why Vogons make for poor poets), and further, to restore some context for those not present when Joe Dees threatened to leave the CoV and demanded that we erase his works, presumably imagining that they might be missed.

The parody and poll were created due to the implicit challenge of one of Mr Dees' departure messages quoted below (unfortunately, he was lying about leaving). In the poll (above), "left" and "right" were swapped around. The Vogon Poet's work is "Hard Question, Hard Answer", the parody is "Soft Head, Wank Verse". Initial voters, having seen the Vogon Poetry the first time around, when it was posted to the list, were well aware of this. The transposition was intended to highlight the fact that when dealing with autoparodeesing Vogon Poetry, it can be very difficult to discern any difference between the inherent self-parody integral to all bloviated works (ask Sylvia Plath) and an intentional parody of the work in question. In addition, Mr Dees is a longway to the right of Attila the Hun, while Hermit, the author of the parody (and this note), is more comfortable somewhere to the left of what passes for a "leftish" perception in the US (yet well to the right of most of Europe). Thus a political pun interspersed with an attempt at poetic justice.

The poll should be used as follows:
  • Vote for the parody, "Soft Head, Wank Verse" if you find it less worse than the Vogon Poet's effort, "Hard Question, Hard Answer".
  • Vote for William Topaz McGonagall if you find even McGonagall's work (e.g. The Tay Bridge Disaster) preferable, even by a gnat's ball hair, to both "Hard Question, Hard Answer" and its parody, "Soft Head, Wank Verse".
  • Vote for the Vogon poetry only if you find its anxious angst, inane incoherence, ponderous pauses, massive momentum, faltering rhythm and shambling gait speaks to your soul as a bullfrog passes wind through its herniated rectum when stepped on by an obese pregnant she hippopotamusTM.

We will draw our own conclusions about your ability to appreciate poetry based on your response.

To obtain the best possible view of this work, widen your screen so that no lines are wrapped in the poems below, as, for maximum effect, the two poems are meant to be compared line for line.

[Dees] If the removal of my writings offends you, then substitute your own - oops, you are incapable of producing writings of such quality.  All you can do is spout doggerel, spew propaganda, and slur your betters.

[Hermit] Thus, ejaculated the Vogon Poet. And inviting parody, the invitation is fulfilled.

Soft Head, Wank VerseHard Question, Hard Answer
Why do little childrens bumsWhy are we the only ones?
Stab me like a knifeOf all life,
Weaken it, I want insideWe commit mass homicide,
Kilted elvesKill ourselves,
In I come and then I groanAnd befoul our only home.
Golden peeOnly we.
I tryWhy?
After painful urinationAfter painful meditiation
Though my passions I relieveI've come to believe
My discharge tells my I'm infectedThat we are infected
With some nightmare sexual diseaseWith a blessed, damned disease
Chancres filled with pus.Called consciousness.
Attracted by boyhood in my senilityCaught between beasthood and divinity
After turd eating I hurled, but not all of it.Between being of the world and not of it
Between having fun and hurling allBetween knowing none and knowing all
Over my pretty elf, chucking cream, penis handlingBetween perfect self-ignorance and supreme self-understanding
In my car, semen covered features, mutual tossabilityWe are the creatures of individual possibility.
Unnatural whirled jism smears his prepuceral hood and heIn the natural world there is neither good not evil;
fulfilleth his bareness, cums, rapacity then slothWith awareness comes the capacity for both.
That same infection, permeats my heart, my jismThat same infection which permits art, altruism,
Infects he, first here, I violate him, tear his pantsFidelity and loving care, allows violence, indifference,
End childish sprees, my halitosisDishonesty and psychosis,
Forced upon this pawn, depravity, it drives me wildFor it spawns personality and its child
Impressionable voicePersonal choice.
I take my leave, gifting him my proclivityI have come to believe in both the divinity
endogastric dicking, exotic tortureand the diaboly of human nature
Bending kiddies to my willAnd that they are inseparable.
Our disease is terminalMy disease is terminal
fecal doobedoo, masturbate, eat shitAnd all we can do is make the best of it
Bestriding, licking feet, my virility lessonsBy striving to treat its more virulent symptoms
Watching children I've covered in lesions.While reaping its blessings.

PS Never forget to wash your hands with hot water and soap after reading and even more importantly, after writing, poetry.
« Last Edit: 2009-09-19 16:31:53 by Hermit » Report to moderator   Logged

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Re:Select your preference
« Reply #1 on: 2003-09-18 16:57:42 »
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More Vogon Poetry:

See, see the sky
Marvel at its big puce depths.
Tell me, do you
Wonder why the George Dubya Bush ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel .
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your Dubya facial growth
That looks like
A Spam.
What's more, it knows
Your Democracy potting shed
Smells of dollar bill.
Everything under the big sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm s.
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