Hey, all you hip cats and righteous moonbeams, it’s time for a little lyrical medicine courtesy of Poetry Corner.
If you’re looking to let off some steam then this is the place you for. Take a load off.
Here with a creamy piece of beatnik bebop is Trancient Prozac and his poem
Guzzle
I guzzle. I am the guzzler. You can’t stop me.
When I guzzle down my perilous maw,
You really don’t know, you can’t be sure
If it’s ever coming back because of how black
The back of my maw can be.
When I guzzle, you’ll think I need a muzzle,
It goes all over my mouth and hands.
I’m drinking too much like it’s going out of fashion,
A red burping cannon, taking all yo fresh rations,
Right down my maw of tranquility.
Gasp at the gastro intestinal puzzle
That forms the basis of my sweet guzzle.
You don’t need a degree in food expertise
To squeeze the kind of wheeze from these balconies,
But if you can embrace the nurturing bustle
Of a pint of gravy right down to the nuzzle,
I’m sure that with practice you too can hack this
And be one with the almighty guzzle.
13 comments on “Poetry corner – Guzzle”
This might be – and I want you to understand that I mean this very seriously – your best poem yet.
Have we travelled back to old beans? Is poetry an emergent property of Ian being near a baby?
That does seem possible. As Ian’s state of parenthood has regressed 20 years so has his creativity. This might mean he puts out another rap EP in about 2034.
I was so close to recording that rap EP. I’d sorted out the songs, crafting all the lyrics, got my friend Nick to help with the music and recording… then summer disappeared along with all my hopes and dreams.
I’m sure I’ll have plenty of free time next year to get it sorted. Right?
Right?
Yeah, I expect all this baby stuff will blow over pretty soon and you’ll have more free time.
Thank god for that. I’ve got so many weasels to stretch it’s becoming unbearable.
Independence is the key thing you have to teach your little Orb. Drum it into him that you’re only going to be around to help him out for another few weeks. Then it’s his problem and you can get back to your hobbies.
You’re so right. I’ll plonk him down (he’s not sitting up yet), look him in the eyes with my harsh eyes and say, “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem if you ask me,” then run away and hide in a wardrobe.
Like R Kelly?
Did R Kelly have harsh eyes?
R Kelly was swimming in harsh eyes.
You can do that when you’re as rich as him. If only I’d made the soundtrack to Space Jam I could fill a whole pool with the eyes of my choice.