Monday, September 13, 2010

Poor poetry and Venn diagrams

I remembered that I had a (really rather lame) website years ago today, so I had a look at it to procrastinate. Most of it is just stupid stuff that I found funny at the time, but I had one page on it which was an ongoing competition to find the worst poet in the world.

Here is the winner, by someone calling themselves Scuba Police:

I have nineteen thousand seven hundred and fifty two dogs that all say bow-wow.
I also have a cow.
My friend said how.
Do you have nineteen thousand seven hundred and fifty two dogs that all say bow-wow.
And also a cow.
I said do I have to tell you now.
He said yes now.
So I said that yes I would tell him how.
I have nineteen thousand seven hundred and fifty two dogs that all say bow-wow.
And also a cow.
Right now.
After I told him he had a funny eyebrow.
Because it is too low.
And when he punched me his fist and my face together made a sound that sounded like pow.
I said ow.
A big cat passed and said me-ow.
I said the hurt and he said I know.
He said your face looks like dog chow.
And so we had our first row.
I said my face needed a plow.
He said wow.
Your a good friend and I said I know.
The cat came back and mauled my friend to pieces and with his final dying breath he said ow.
The cat left again saying me-ow.
So I didn't have to tell my friend the way I could have nineteen thousand seven hundred and fifty dogs that all say bow-wow.
And a cow.
Which is good because thinking about them reminds me of the twin tow.
Ers so now.
I'll take a bow.

Pretty darn bad I'd say. Here are the others in no particular order:

On my foot
I have a bunion
The size of an onion
But smells worse
by UD

Peanut smoothie
and Frog spawn. Yum
by Dion

Turkeys, Dinosaurs, Monkeys
and Turnips, Fried eggs and rice
all smell like poo
but taste very, very nice
by Dion

I like turnips a lot
when they are boiling in a pot
I eat them while lying in a cot
I eat them with a glass of rhubarb juice more often than not.
But not when they got in a lot of snot.
by Scuba Police

An ode to Mark holden:
Your biznitch was the shiznitch,
your foogles were the glop ,
you made so many ****ing words
now it's time to stop
by Louis

Wind, Rain, Sleet, Snow,
Where's the potty I need to go
by Dion

Louis's Super Duper Zippity day haiku
Yo my name Louis
Would you like some tea mister
one sugar or two?
by Louis

An unnamed poem
I smells.
by Andrew

Pizza Pie
Blibbity Blobbity bloop
I gotta big pile of goop
It's brown & sticky &
... oh my whoopsadaisy it's
by Dion

Chinese haiku
Me speak English good
Me learned at many place
Me very poor now
by Louis

Ounce upon a time ... there was
a boy & he was poor & he was 615 year old
& he died 425 years ago THE END
by Dion

Bolands Poem
Hush the rain is falling
and the humidity has stifled my brain.
by Boland

Och! Dar!
Ye'rrr mussin' oot ye ken
On th' soond a' th' bag pipe murd’rin down in yonder glen!
A salve to y' agein' heart t’d be t' hear the buck pipe scream;
Cornered, wailing out it's chilled blood baying
Echoin’ harshly on the breezes floatin' down the
Mighty Murray Meadows, by our valley staying.
T’wer brave the man who faced yon bagpipe growling
Armed with naught upon him for his prowling
Than with his trusty sporting sporran.
When feral bagpipe turns to breed,
There'll be upon these hills no peace.
Pity then the RSP won’t agree to let
The brawny Vet to cull: by strangulation.
There doesn't seem in this extreme
Without distain a more humane
Routine to move this curse from our domain.
by John

Obviously if I'm going to talk about bad poetry I have to mention the list compiled by Douglas Adams;

in third place for the worst poetry is the fictional race of the Vogons:

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits
On a lurgid bee
That mordiously hath bitled out
Its earted jurtles
Into a rancid festering [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts
And living glupules frart and slipulate
Like jowling meated liverslime
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
And hooptiously drangle me
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon
See if I don't.

Second is Grunthos the Flatulent, poetmaster of the Azgoths of Kria:

Relax mind
Relax body
Relax bowels
Do not fall over.
You are a cloud.
You are raining.
Do not rain
While train
Is standing at a station.
Move with the wind.
Apologise where necessary.

First was Paul Neil Milne Johnstone, a real person:
The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay.
They rotted.
They turned
Around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from
Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

I've learnt that Venn diagrams need to have a representation of the Universal set surrounding the circles which make the diagram. Well, I'm not really convinced that they're necessary at the moment, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to be taught more about it. I spent some more of the day procrastinating by researching Venn diagrams. As far as I can tell from the internet (a wholly reliable source to be sure) the Universal set is sometimes included but it does not need to be. I asked some math kids, they said pretty much the same thing as the internet did, which seemed to legitimise it a bit for me, but the one saying a Universal set is crucial is probably of a higher math authority.

Obviously from there since I didn't want to have to start doing uni work still I started thinking about Venn diagrams about poetry.

This is my reinterpretation of one I found, I think it's an improvement. Notice I didn't include a Universal set? It's not because I had decided it's wrong, I just couldn't be bothered with it.

This one I had absolutely nothing to do with, but I liked it.
There was also a non-literature one that relates to a conversation I had at camp on the weekend:

Also, I did end up doing that uni work, and even submitting it, with 30 seconds to spare. Winner!

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