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Posted Wed Nov 11th, 2009 3:44pm Post subject: Possibly my favourite poem I've ever writtenen

This very much borrows the meter from Longfellow's 'The Song of Hiawatha' - trochaic tetrameter - a lovely hypnotic rhythm consisting of a four pairs of syllables per line with the stress on the first, and should be read as such. I felt it the perfect form to tell the story of how, when I was first on my medication for depression and, needless to say, a bit spaced, I threw a bin bag into some douchebag's car.

It is called the A6/Bin Bag Debacle.

On the seventh day of this month
(February, as it stands) I
made the choice to undertake
domestics in a drugged-up stupor;
emptying the bin; that which dwells
in the corner of our kitchen

and, with careless distribution
of a bag containing rubbish,
caused to hit the pride extension
– very blatant pride extension –
of some dickless office jockey.

Colleagues of his came by, both men
sporting grins at his misfortune
(or it could be mine) and told us
that when he – their friend – discovered
that I’d hit his pride extension
– sorely blatant pride extension –
he would doubtless be displeased and
maybe this would cost me money;

so I went out to observe just
how much damage I had caused by
flinging out the bag of rubbish
up and over our back wall. And

there, there was a mighty horde – a
large, conceited, sour-faced horde – of
monkey-suited office jockeys
voicing their utmost displeasure
at the careless way in which I
threw the rubbish past our wall

“You should really be more careful
when you’re throwing out your rubbish,”
thus proclaimed a frowning miser
who’d relinquished pleasure for a
mortgage, desk and comfy pension.

Little could this woman know my
medicated stupor was the
reason for my undertaking
wanton distribution (which was
careless distribution) of a
bag containing rubbish up and
over our back garden wall and
scratching up the pride extension
– oh so blatant pride extension –
of her dickless jockey colleague

So I did the noble thing (well,
what I deemed the noble thing) and
two of us left from my house to
take the path around the house and
through the car park to the office
which is found behind our house and
where resides the pride extension
of the monkey suited jockey
which I totalled with a bin bag
when I threw it in a somewhat
careless manner past our wall. My

housemate in his hoodie and
myself in my pyjama bottoms
both seemed rather unfamiliar
entering the office where the
monkey-suited office jockey
owner of the pride extension
spent his days and evenings working.

I’ll admit I felt quite good in
floating through this zoo-like office
where the scratched-up pride extension
wounded by a plastic missile
flung by some great drugged-up tit-end
was the most eventful thing to
happen in their working day. And

so the monkey took my details
and I gave these details freely
even though I clearly couldn’t
pay for any damage suffered
by his blatant dick extension
when I threw the bin bag like a
shot put over our back wall (I
must say, quite a mighty throw, which
sent it sailing past the wall). He

told me he would call tomorrow
when he knew the damage that I’d
caused his blatant pride extension
when I sent the bag of rubbish
flying over our back wall, and
freeing it for just one fleeting
minute from the dull and mundane
tedium it must endure. What

little shred of life the bin bag
ever must endure, which surely
shamed the office jockey whom I
might now owe a lot of money.

© Ben Gosling 2009

I'm a histrionic, holistic, herculean halibut.


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Posted Wed Nov 11th, 2009 8:02pm Post subject: Possibly my favourite poem I've ever writtenen

Lovely qoi

I loved the rhythm of 'monkey-suited office jockeys'

Breaking contradictions in his mind was, to him, like walking through a winter forest snapping twigs underfoot.

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