Wednesday, January 11, 2006


I generally don't really like poetry. With the following exceptions: Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe. However, I recently came up with this. Whilst it doesn't have the hard hitting edginess of The Raven or the historical depth of Kubla Khan, I feel that it is still an absolute masterpiece and a good indication that I am the best in the world at everything. It’s called "Birdseed".

There was a man called Richard Brice
In his drink was a block of ice
It thawed right there before his eyes
When suddenly, from the skies
A seagull swooped down from above
And deposited its seed of love
Into the drink with not a thought
For the suffering it wrought
For such a thing is not that nice
To put ones seed where once was ice.
Vengeance Richard vowed to get
He'd not stand by, his mind was set
He stood in wait with horn in fist
Wrist in pain, eyes red with mist
To no avail when gull flew by
Dicks gametes could not get that high