[k_semler]

Courtesy of http://www.dreams.f2s.com/sarah.htm :

My Name is Sarah

My Name is Sarah,
I am but three,
my eyes are swollen
I cannot see.

I must be stupid
I must be bad,
what else could have made
my daddy so mad?

I wish I were better
I wish I weren't ugly;
then maybe my mommy
would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all
I can't do a wrong,
or else I'm locked up
all the day long.

When I awake
I'm all alone;
the house is dark
my folks aren't home.

When my mommy does come
I'll try and be nice,
so maybe I'll get just
one whipping tonight.

Don't make a sound!
I just heard a car,
my daddy is back
from Charlie's Bar.

I hear him curse
my name he calls
I press myself
against the wall.

I try and hide
from his evil eyes;
I'm so afraid now
I'm starting to cry.

He finds me weeping
he shouts ugly words
he says it's my fault
that he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me
and yells at me more,
I finally get free
and I run for the door.

He's already locked it
and I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me
against the hard wall.

I fall to the floor
with my bones nearly broken,
and my daddy continues
with more bad words spoken.

"I'm sorry!" I scream
but its now much too late
his face has been twisted
into unimaginable hate.

The hurt and the pain
again and again,
Oh please God; have mercy!

Oh please let it end!

And he finally stops
and heads for the door,
while I lay there motionless
sprawled on the floor.

My name is Sarah
and I am but three,
tonight my daddy
murdered me.

[OilsNotWell]

.

Moving.


I like this page:

Evil-licious

I'll try and dig up some on my poetry, although it might be on par with Vogon poetry, widely considered the third worst in the universe:

$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('', 'V')ogon poetry
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Arthur Dent being read Vogon poetry in the TV seriesVogon Poetry is poetry written by Vogons, a fictional race in Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Asgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in my Armpit One Midsummer Morning" four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Knobbling Council survived only by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been "disappointed" by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled "My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles" when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save humanity, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain. The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paul Neil Milne Johnstone of Redbridge, in the destruction of the planet Earth. Vogon poetry is mild by comparison.

Listening to it is an experience similar to torture as seen when Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect are forced to listen to the Vogon captain's poetry prior to being thrown out of an airlock.

Excerpt:

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits
On a lurgid bee.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
And hooptiously drangle me
with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon
See if I don't.
A second example of Vogon poetry was found in the Hitchhiker's Guide interactive fiction game that was produced by Infocom. This is actually the second verse of the above poem; if nothing else, it is fair to say that Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz was consistent in his efforts to reach out to and crush souls with his poetry. Note that during the game, the following lines would be printed in random order. Thus what follows is only one of twenty-four possible combinations.

Gashee morphousite, thou expungiest quoopisk!
Fripping lyshus wimbgunts, awhilst moongrovenly kormzibs.
Bleem miserable venchit! Bleem forever mestinglish asunder frapt!
Gerond withoutitude form into formless bloit, why not then? Moose.

[aldente]

That was a real downer k_semmler. When I saw the title I hoped for a beautiful newcommer to this board.

[k_semler]

Out of curiosity, how did you know that that was the original spelling of the Semler name 130 years ago in Germany? Did you study the history of the Semler name, or do you just go to Germany quite a lot?

[smallpoxgirl]

That poem is just twisted KS.

[Doly]

You know, I think this sort of poetry should only be allowed to people that have had actual experiences like that. Otherwise, it's just going on with the usual myths about them.

I have actually written a few poems about my relationship with an alcoholic. A small one that I remember by heart is:

They broke up about a disagreement
on what film to see on the cinema.
They broke up about who fed the cat.
They broke up about petty things.

I can't bear to listen.

At least in my marriage
there was blood and fire!

Real blood
and real fire.

[smallpoxgirl]

$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('Doly', 'R')eal blood
and real fire.

[aldente]

$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('k_semler', 'O')ut of curiosity, how did you know that that was the original spelling of the Semler name 130 years ago in Germany?