Big snogs to Mr Krayzie for sending in this touching poem about a moo-cow..
Daisy the cow
I'm not mad and I'm not crazy,
my best friend is a cow called Daisy.
She's got Bovine Spongiform disease,
she's making us feel ill at ease.
She caught it from the supplementary feed,
which the farmer said was guaranteed.
But now she's mad and has started to bark,
and most of the time thinks she's Joan of Arc.
We heard she would be rendered down,
because she was acting like a clown.
They said she was very contagious,
we just think she's very courageous.
Now we're all going up the pole,
we think we're rabbits and live down a hole.
They wont get us we're going to tunnel out,
then we'll meet down the pub for a pint of stout.
Then we'll form our own pressure group,
they'll never put us in a tin of beef soup.
Copyright Mr Krayzie 2001.
Our good friend, The Cheezer has sent in a poem, penned in despair, as the British rail system collapsed during recent localised flooding.
Untitled On A Train
As waterproof as Henry's goat
Surrounded by a flooded moat,
"What bag of shit is this??"
Copyright Stuart Brewster 2001
One of the most unique writers around, Drew Lankford, has been kind enough to submit this strange (almost disturbing) piece of imagery. Thanks, Drew!
HEED MY FRIEND, HEED!!!
TAKE THE LONG HALLWAY.
DON'T STOP, EVEN THOUGH YOU WILL.
YOU WILL BE SEDUCED BY CREATURES ON EACH SIDE.
AND THEIR TONGUES WILL CURL UP LIKE PARTY STRINGERS.
THEIR EYES WILL SPIN AROUND AND HYPNOTIZE YOU.
WHEN YOU OPEN THE GATE AND WALK INSIDE, THEY WILL TEAR YOU TO
PIECES AND EAT YOU. THEN THEY WILL KICK BACK, PASS
SOME GAS AND PLAY SOME GOOD OLE SOUTHERN MUSIC.