Like 'yeah?' or whatever.
Today at our church’s Sunday meeting a California stoner/surfer guy (okay, me) came and did a poetry reading. His poem was about judgemental people. Between stanzas all the people in the building belted out the chorus of The Beatles You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away.
Here is the poem:
I’m checking out the people as I walk down the street.
I’m passing out my judgements on everyone I meet.
You’re snide.
You’ve died.
You’re far too wide.
You’ve cried.
You lied.
You want a date? Denied!
I’m feeling good about myself. I’m whistling a tune.
I’ve grown superior to you like a great big balloon.
You’re weak.
You geek.
You greasy freak,
Don’t speak.
You leak.
I’d call that nose a beak.
I’ve had a lot of practice from watching the TV.
That old Simon Cowell ain’t got nothing over me.
You sing?
Don’t sing!
My ears will sting.
Don’t cling.
You’re wrin-
kling my clothes, you ming.
My reputation is the world’s greatest cynic.
I justify my arrogance by being ironic.
Green pus.
Size plus.
Your bum’s a bus –
Discuss.
Don’t fuss,
You hippopotamus.
Hey! Where are you going. Don’t just walk away.
I’ll joke about someone else and not you for today.
Stay here.
Have beer.
I like you near,
It’s clear.
Oh dear.
Fine! I’ll sit right here and sneer.
I’m feeling rather lonely up here in my room.
My friends have all departed. I’m in a fog of gloom.
They’re bad
I’m sad
I’m really mad
Not glad
They had
To hate my cynical fad.
The only other thing you need to know about this is that is that it worked and it probably made Jesus happy.
Amen.
10 May 2009 Jeff Gill
tags: drama,
poems,
silly
Hooray for fables
Here is another poem that I wrote. It is a riff on Æsop’s Tortoise and the Hare. Christine and I read it this morning at our church. Today’s theme was Run to Win, the third in a new year series called Born to Run. If you can stand a lot of rhyming couplets, read on.
Keep reading
20 January 2008 Jeff Gill
tags: poems,
silly,
stories
Hooray for Victorian morality tales
I quite enjoy, as Dylan Thomas put it, ‘pictureless books in which small boys, though warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles’ pond and did and drowned’. This poem is my silly homage to the genre. It was read and acted out at our church on Sunday when the theme was the ninth commandment: don’t lie.
I’ve come to tell a story. Once there was a boy.
He had a mother and a father, but he did not bring them joy.
I’ll tell you this boy’s name if you insist that you must know.
His name was Peter Penrhyn Padran Pinnock Ochio.
I’m sad to say that our boy Pete was a spoiled brat,
for his father was a pillock and his mother was…
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19 November 2007 Jeff Gill
tags: poems,
silly