My dog sits so obediently besides this comfy chair; His canine eyes epitomise intense and loyal trust. Ostensibly, he's focused on his master's every move, But is in fact observing an uneaten jammy crust!
While sitting by a tree within a wood last Wednesday week, Perfecting transcendental yogic hovering technique, A mystic would-be sky-pilot with pure unsullied soul, Conversed with one determined to dislodge his aureole. For pious Jim got chatting with Old Mephistopheles, Who on a stroll to capture wayward sinners in the trees, Discovered pure and lovely Jim, and thought it might be nice To tempt him with some naughty ways denounced in Paradise. Old Nick ran through the deadly sins, as impious tour guide; From Avarice and Lust, to Envy, Sloth, Anger and Pride. All swiftly were dismissed by Jim, with innocence intact, Until the Devil tempted him with cakes from Pontefract. "Where comest this fine black bonne bouche?" asked poor demented Jim, As Greed quite overcame his mind and left him in a spin. A knowing smile played on Nick's lips, as pointing to 'The North', He doomed young Jim to liquorice addiction from thenceforth. To Pontefract went fallen youth in such indecent haste To sate his hedonistic need for Spanish sweet root taste. And there amongst the local folk, damned Jim was left to dwell, On Devil's mission in the darkest depths of Yorkshire Hell.
... apologies to Pontefract (it's a lovely place really :) )
A spider known as Doris, with a face of fangs and eyes, Was an outcast in the circles of her kin, As she found she much preferred the life and company of flies Which, amongst the spiders, was a mortal sin. For society expected her to eat her friendship group, Having filled them full of venom from a bite, Which converted all their vitals to a fine and tasty soup That arachnids slurp with obvious delight. She was ostracised and talked about and ridiculed galore, But despite all the opprobrium and hate, Found a bluebottle called Sidney who she came quite to adore And decided Sid would be her lifelong mate. She ignored his dirty habits and his lack of all finesse, His propensity to hang around in muck, And despite his reputation, Doris loved Sid nonetheless And in matrimony both their troths were struck. They eloped one summer's evening; bade their friends a fond adieu, But unfortunately hadn't packed a snack. And by midnight when our Doris felt a hunger pang or two, Sidney's future looked quite ominously black. In Shakespearian tradition star-crossed lovers have it tough, And although Sid tried to tempt his wife with poop, When a spider's feeling peckish, love is never quite enough And the marriage was dissolved in Sidney soup ...
The speckled ripe banana lay alone inside the bowl,
And worried 'bout the consequence for his immortal soul, Because he'd sung his friend, the pear, an optimistic ballad Two minutes 'fore she was chopped up as part of a fruit salad. He wondered if he'd let her down, because in him she'd trusted; Oblivious to his own fate, as he was doused in custard. And so we learn that optimism in the bowl of life Is hopeless, once the Chef decides to wield the salad knife.
From other Dalek crew, Who keep emotions hidden While exterminating you. I don't agree with killing, With plans to subjugate. The Universe is lovely And I find it hard to hate. In fact, I've got my own plan; I'm working from within! I'm teaching other Daleks How to knit and sew and spin. I run a secret workshop Where Daleks can relax
I'm like a green carbuncle on a supermodel's nose.
A fly found in the ointment, a worm upon a plate,
A banker's contribution to a probity debate. A vegan at a hog roast, a snake inside a boot, The water lapping at the feet of mighty King Canute. A politician's promise, a long forgotten vow, As useful as a set of wheels and jet pack on a cow. I feel somewhat superfluous, important I am not, As vital to the voyage as a camel on a yacht; And so I have a question, asked with due humility, Within an endless universe, what is the point of me?