I got bored and did some naff poetry...

...Go me.

The passively aggressive huff of the boredom faerie.
By Paul Caulfield/HearMeRoar

Tired and dull you'll find me,
Sat inside my disordered fort,
It's amalgamous and untidy,
And a notepad file's my only sport.

Terrible gobshite my fingers tap,
Goaded on by wrapping dullness,
Boredom made me type this crap,
Beating on me with it's sternness.

The crate of beer is almost done,
Likely because I drank it,
This boredom really is no fun,
My concentration so loosely knit.

At least I can have a smoke or two,
Though I didn't avoid addiction,
But my will is naught and my wants are few,
So I'm held by the smoke's conviction.

Although it could be worse perhaps,
It's only wistful melancholy,
Save for the worst mis-haps,
I'm happy with my folly.

I really wish I wasn't bored,
Or that it was time for sleep,
I think I'll lie on the keyboard,
Fgkdikiksdikdjkmeep.

More awful poetry

In my efforts to fully explore the encapsulating world of "Seymour Stúf," I had a go at more poetry; this time just making it up as I went along and seeing what happened.

...I'm glad I'm using a fake identity. I post this only in the name of science...


A curious infraction in plight of jest,
When woe betide at her behest,
In grim staccato in turn I find,
Her silky touch has made me blind.

Raptured by her sly beguile,
And led astray all through the while,
By the collar I was led,
And all because she gave good head.

The scheming fiend has come and gone,
Into the night she went anon,
And folk will ask "Where did she go?"
Buried, as she is, under the patio...

Methinks I'll try some more. As usual, if you want to see more click the link, join up (and earn me $0.00000001 or something) and help me antagonise lunatics and morons.

Have fun kids,

HMR

Three poems I wrote a while ago...

Saved here solely for the sake of posterity: -

---

Gather round all, and attend the tale,
of a creature called Rob, a man made of fail.
He'd prod us and bug us, in infantile bliss,
"Go away Rob! You're taking the piss!"

So off he would go, in a miserable skulk,
in to his room, for a bit of a sulk.
Though a bit later on, this he'd forget,
he'd baffle and bug us, regardless of threat.

So on it would go, his crap we'd endure.
He could go on forever, of that I am sure.
There'd be something wrong, with whatever he said.
Myself I'm convinced, he's wrong in the head.

For ages he'd waffle, though I'd stifle a yawn,
About transformers or his masses of porn.
"To be honest Rob, I don't really care,"
"I'm sick of your face, and your long girly hair."

It may be appear obvious, that I might have a grudge,
But Rob is a menace, on this I wont budge.
This opinion too, I know you would keep,
if he'd threatened to kill you, as well in your sleep.

And now that you know, about this odd man,
You may stay away, or run if you can.
Whether you dislike him, or think I'm not fair.
I've just one thing to say: Saying that, chair...

I'd explain that last last line, but I don't want to. It's something of an in-joke...

---

a poem for Phoeni ^_^

(Apologies for it's suckiness...I was rather sleepy when i started it)

Our forumspace is filled;
with a multitude of class;
But beyond them all there happens to be;
a certain type of lass.

A prettyful case of lithe and grace;
to which we all adore;
And she's cute, to add to the list;
of charm and so much more.

And if, by chance, you meet this girl;
myself I'd know you'd find;
A radiant glow about her smile;
(and a rather cute behind).

Propertied with nymphian wile;
a sparkling wit and keen in guile;
And if you saw I know you'd smile;
Enraptured, held in lost beguile.

Held in gaze of gentility;
In awe of favoured kin;
Our Phoeni, whom we love so much;
Is undoubtedly made of win.

---

W00t.

With hopefully some birthday cheer;
And may it last until next year;
Resplendant now, with cake and booze;
The celebration now ensues.

So quaff your fill and then be merry;
'Til sense and action be contrary;
And hopefully you'll find a lass;
And gleefully the night shall pass.

And when you wake, dry and wappened;
And quite unsure of just what happened;
A roynish romage upon the floor;
We wish you well for ever more.

---------

That's about the extent of my poetry attempts thus far, although I must admit that I enjoy it somewhat. I may have to give it another go sometime ^_^

Have fun kids.

HMR