Tag Archives: poems

Excerpts from Super Mario’s Twitter Feed

Hello Everybody!  It’s-ah me, Mario!!  I just-ah got a new IPhone! Tweet tweet.–about an hour ago from Twitterific

Oh-ah-no!  Someone has-ah stolen the Princess.  As a plumber, I feel fully qualified to rescue her! –50 minutes ago

Hey Look-ah, I’mma breaking the bricks.  With-ah my head!  —42 minutes ago

Gold-ah coins!  Woo-hoo! —From Twitterific

You ever get the feeling you’re-ah looking at the same three clouds, scrolling back and forth, over and over and over again?  –40 minutes ago

The princess is in another castle!  Oh-ah-no! –37 minutes ago

Oooo!  I ate-ah the mushroom, and now I’m a bigger! —About 35 minutes ago

Ooooh I touched a turtle, and now I’mma smaller! —About 34 minutes ago

When I jump-ah onto the flagpole, fireworks shoot up, like they’re coming out of my ass!  #fireworksoutofmyass.

A plumber and a princess, just thank-ah of the sex!  —About 20 minutes ago

Ouch, I’mma dead! From Twitterific

@mario  Suck it. Love, Bowser from the web

The Princess is in another castle!  Jesus Christ!!

I have acquired the tail of a racoon, which allows me to fly!  Woo hoo!  Maybe I should lay off the Mushrooms. –from Twitterific

Don’t-ah look now, but the turtles have grown wings.  WTF?? LOL?!? –from the web

Oh-ah Look, it’s my brother Luigi!  Just-a in time!

@Luigi You fuck.  That was supposed to be my firey balls flower!

#Haiti  — Please-ah donate to the poor people of Haiti.  I would-ah, but I’m being chased by a giant bullet with wings.  Oh-ah-no!

The Princess is in another castle.  Fucking-ah bitch.

#FF @Princess, @Yoshi, @Donkey Kong, @Little Toadstool Guy

Game Over?  This is my life we’re talking about!!  Continue!! Continue!!! –About 10 minutes ago

@Player  That’s better. —About 9 minutes ago

Sick of fucking gold coins now.  —About 8 minutes ago

Going down a sewer to a water world.  Not sure my IPhone will get reception here. –About 8 minutes ago

Woop woop woop woop –7 minutes ago from Twitterific

Yup.  Iphones are for assholes!  —5 minutes ago from web

Taken star-shaped pills that made me feel invincible? #Ivedonethat2 –4 minutes ago

@Princess Where R U? –3 minutes ago

@mario  I’m in another castle –2 minutes ago

@Princess Whore.  –1 minute ago


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Special Guest Poet John Osborne

I’m still trying to quit smoking and can’t think and nothing seems inspiring–so here’s some special guest poetry from John Osborne.  He’s funny, and English, and writes funny English people poems.  This one’s about the stifling predictability of middle class life and rampant domestic terrorism.  You can read more of his sweet-ass poetry, or buy one of his many books here.  Do it soon, because he’s pretty much too famous to talk to you now, and that’s only going to get worse.

p.s.  At first I thought this was a poem about men wearing Turkish pastries.  But that’s Baklavas.  There’s a difference.  Anyway, fucking read it.  It’s a good fucking poem.

What if men burst in wearing balaclavas?

by John Osborne

You shout crossword clues
while I iron work shirts.
and and there’s a stack of DVDs we ordered on Amazon
we still haven’t watched.
and Stuart Maconie is on the radio,

you like him
and we’ve skyplus’d The Apprentice
and it’s only two weeks until we go to New York
and the chicken is nearly roasted
and our friends will be here soon
and we’ve a case of red wine to get through

and a massive Toblerone
and Stuart Maconie has just played Whippin’ Picadilly
and if it’s still sunny at eight o’clock
we can drink gin and tonic in the garden
and tell everyone that Katie called this morning
to say she’s getting married in September

but as I sit waiting for our guests to arrive
I can’t help but look at the patio doors,
I imagine an elbow through the glass,
a man holding a gun in your mouth
as I am told to fill a bag with valuables.

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Burnham Market

I went to Burnham Market this weekend.  I didn’t like it.

Burnham Market: Norfolk’s Loveliest Village*

*According to Itself

In Burnham Market,

Disapproval wears a white wooly sweater

Glares down from his Land Rover

On the way to antiquing

with his orange second wife.

And Disdain is out with her two dogs

Rescued Greyhounds,

of course.

Six black eyes glare, cold as the pockmarked

flint exteriors of Holt,

and country walls

that line the place

Hadrian’s wall against the B-roads

Animosity stacks shelves

with locally sourced free range produce

and beer infused organic chutney

all tastefully overpriced.

her nose higher than the wooden beams

of her Grade II listed country market.

Ambivelance, who runs the BP garage

and wishes we were anywhere else,

Is only to happy to point us back to the A47.

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An In-depth Analysis of Obama’s First Year in Office

In honor of the recent State of the Union address, I’d like to add my two cents, a completely in-depth analysis of Obama’s first year in office.

An in-depth analysis of Obama’s first year in office.

Obama is fucking awesome.  Seriously, he is sweet.

Obama is everything good about the world.

I love Obama, and you should too.

Obama knows every little bit helps.

Obama works while you sleep

Obama does it your way.

Obama has lasers for eyes, and can see through men,

To find the truth.

Obama loves like no one can, and in his sweet embrace

All things are possible, and you know, baby, you’re the only one, right?

Cause Obama is the Alpha and the Omega, motherfuckaaaaa!

Obama won a Nobel Peace prize just because he’s fucking Obama,

And shot the fucking moon on the same day.

Not cause he’s black, but cause he’s awesome.

Remember climate change?  Yeah.  Obama fixed that.

If Obama and Abraham Lincoln got in a fight, Obama would win,

Cause Lincoln’s just some bearded cracker, and Obama’s shit is tight, ya’ll.

If Obama punched you in the face, your head would explode, but not on him.

Obama doesn’t get wet on water slides, and his sphagetti sauce never boils over the side of the pan leaving nasty little orange splatters all over the hob.  And if he did, he wouldn’t even need to clean it. He has people for that.

Every Christmas, every year, Obama dresses up in a red suit and delivers presents to all the Children in the world in a sleigh guided by magical, flying reindeer.  And if that bitch Rudolph gives him any shit, Obama will kick his ass, cause you do not fuck with Santa Obama.

First thing Obama did in office?  Stopped crime.  Fact.

If Obama was a color, it would be the blood of his enemies.  If he was a smell it would remind you of your grandmother’s house, after she died and left you a ton of money, if he was a sound, it would be O-BAMA.  That’s a little egotistical, I know, but wouldn’t you be, if you were…Obama?

To help avoid pollution, at the bottom of all Obama’s emails, it says ‘We’re conscious of the environment, please do not print this email unless you absolutely, ABSOLUTELY have to.  Or I will come to your house, fuck your mother, and make you watch.”

Only one person has ever printed Obama’s emails.

Obama is not George Bush.

Obama is way fucking cool

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Wedding Vows of a Zombie Slayer


This was part of a series of six poems I wrote for my friend Jaq’s wedding.  It’s about love and zombies.

Wedding Vows of a Zombie Slayer

I promise to love you truly, until the zombies come

At that point I cannot promise anything

But I will try to get you to the shopping mall alive.

And there will always be gas in your chain-saw

Our love forever chambered in the shotgun of my heart

And together, we will aim for the head.

My life will be your life, my house your house

And it will always be stockpiled with canned goods.

Canned goods of my love.

And I will never run from you

Unless you get bitten, in which case,

well, baby, all bets are off.

For what separates us from the sentient undead is our ability to love unconditionally

And also to fly a helicopter.

So with this ring, this plastique, this baseball bat, and that samurai sword I thee wed.

Let’s do this thing.


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Superpowers I’d like to have, if all the good superpowers, like invisibility, were taken.

A telepathic connection to squirrels.

The ability to manipulate remote controls with my mind.

Disturbing preternatural knowledge of the rules of cricket.

Total resistance to guilt.

I can call on the aid of Ronaldo, my crime-fighting ferret.

Pan-dimensional Felching.

The awesome power to influence the minds of French People.

Thumbs that could be turned all the way around, and when released, spin repeatedly back into place, to comic effect.

Huge Super Balls.

An air of unbreatheable smugness

Secret button which, when pressed, unleashes a horde of Vikings, who sing a hilarious show tune, then KILL.

The power to reveal inconvenient truths to the wrong people at inappropriate times.

A barrage of unstoppable spider monkeys, with mischief on their minds.

Turning into a pony.

A suit of invincible body armour that also blasts the song ‘Tiny Dancer’ at my enemies on an endless loop, while we fight.

The ability to control humidity.

Bulletproof leg warmers.

I could smell into the future.

Total control of I-70, and all it’s Stuckys.

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