I have never written poetry. Which is strange, because I sincerely believe that I’m the only intelligent and sensetive person in the world. I’ve just never thought to make my vital musings on the human condition rhyme. And because it’s absolutely paramount that I express myself in as many ways as possible (because my feelings are so intense and important), I’ve decided to share with you, blessed reader, my innermost essence.

This first poem is about meeting someone on the street and saying “Hello”.

THE YOU I HELLO’D
You looked at me said that it was half past eight
I said that that was not very late
You squinted at your watch
Like I am squinting at the sun
You said your watch had stopped
I said I think the sun has stopped too
And in anticipation I puckered my lips
And closed my eyes for the kiss of life
But no kiss came
I puckered more
I opened one eye
And puckered further
You had gone
And I looked like Benny Hill fondling a big tit

That poem, I think, sums up perfectly the chance encounters that rule our lives, and the slavery of the human will to the deterministic clash of mindless atoms. This next poem is about the great duty that comes with the power to truly hate. My hate is so pure you can actually squeeze it like a key fob.

LOVE AND HATE ARE OPPOSITES LIKE HAPPY AND SAD
When we kissed, were you thinking of me?
Or was it Tony?
I only ask because you said “Tony”.
And you asked me to pull my Tony face.

Sometimes it is difficult feeling things in such an acute fashion. You will understand this a little, but not properly. This next poem is about the removal of the barriers between the emotions. I have now done this, and now I feel every emotion, at full strength, constantly. Yesterday I snarled joyfully in placid horror. Times ten.

MANDY PORTER OH NO
mandy porter, i love you
mandy porter, i do
even when you’re far away
i think of you

This is just the chorus – now it goes into a freestyle MC session, of the kind you might recall in such hits as Paula Abdul’s Opposites Attract or The Fat Boys and Chubby Checker’s The Twist.

oh mandy porter, i never shoulda fought ya
there’s a knot in my hanky
to remind me of something
one time two time thanks for that
i’m hungry
have we got anything in?
(i’ve got something in you
but i’m still hungry for food)
the two things are distinct
do you see mandy? mandy?
OH NO MANDY PORTER HAS DIED IN MY ARMS TONIGHT
OH MANDY :(

[chorus]

dead girl in my arms, tra-la-la-la-la
there’s a dead girl in my arms, traaa la la-la-la-la
dead girl in my arms, tra-la-la-la-la
at last i can do her up the bum
bum! bum!

That might seem off-colour to you, with your black and white worldview. I live on a different moral plane. I am so far advanced that it pains me to even call myself human. I should be the kind of creature that says things like “puny mortal”. Brian Blessed or something. This next and final poem is about my feet, which I think are just the right size.

FEET
Left foot right foot
My feet are so clean
Me and my feet are
Gonna see the queen

It is my sincerest hope that you have been improved by my poetry, and if you wish to share your own inferior verse, do so in the comments.