Putrid Poetry

There’s far too much emphasis on the good stuff. Given that William McGonagall is the official Muse of Beautiful Railway Bridge, I feel I’ve been falling down in my sacerdotal duties by not giving bad poetry its due.

So, first a personal offering.

Playing with Matches

Jonathan William Wellington Nutt
Was told he shouldn’t play with matches, but
He listened to the voices in his head
And found he really liked the things they said.

One day, in the mental institution,
They gave him some nice electrocution;
He came out sane, as bland and boring as
The rest of us, a man without pizzazz.

– poetmcgonagall

I am a better bear for that, though fit only to kneel at the feet of McGonagall’s most recent Scottish incarnation – the late, great C. John Taylor. His poetry and song stylings can be found here. I particularly recommend the paean to Prince Charles, though it’s advisable to listen to it on an empty stomach.

Next up is Rik Mayall, channeling his character from The Young Ones, a truly McGonagallesque torturing of a poem to produce a spurious rhyme.

Moving right along to poetry that’s more utilitarian than bad, tailored to meet today’s busy consumer lifestyles.

And finally, the literary equivalent of Dear Coquette, who holds court on the sidebar.

This is only the tip of the iceberg – we have not considered Vogon poetry, for example. I promise to fully explore the less salubrious outer reaches of the poetry universe in later posts.

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