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Stream of Consciousness Poem

This poem will be a lot like automatic writing, except that I will not be channeling any spirits or Linda Blair stalker demons. I will simply write down the things that pop into my cranium-box, with very little attention to having the poem make any sense at all, whatsoever! This is a fun little exercise to do, and it really gives you some insight into how normal you are or how truly fucked up you are in the head! Give it a go. Here’s mine……

The man went to the boat shop, to buy a carton of tuna. 

The fish in the barrel had the attitude of David Caruso,

Flopping around saying one-liners then walking off stage.

It’s a strange day when a dead body laughs at your acting ability,

but today was time for the fishing expedition,

so nobody had the thyme to garnish upon the tuna.

These fish don’t look upon the barnacles favourably,

they prefer to eat themselves with some salt and purple pepper.

Tuna all over the world unite, we’ve got this, it’s ours for the taking.

We gotta turn over the poultry patriarchy,

damn chickens ruling the taste buds of men, women and children!

We big ol’ fishies taste gooder and sweeter, we deserve the thyme and rosemary sprigs to be dangled over and in our arseholes,

those homosexual chickens like those breadcrumbs up there way too much!

We may have bones in us when you bastards catch us and then cook us,

consider that a little prank on behalf of tunas worldwide.

We’re not especially happy about being eaten by slobbering messes,

so we enlarge our bones and sharpen them too, just to stab into your throaty abysses!

Too much fish in this absurd poem methinks,

enough of the taste, the slime and the stink!

Again, one last thing on the subject of fishes…

why do they relinquish themselves so easily,

they’re easier to catch than AIDS from a test tube full of AIDS.

You’d think they’d communicate “hey watch out, Barry’s after ya! Swim away, you dumbass flathead!”

But alas they don’t, they just flop onto our dinner plates,

can’t complain, either me or the fish, then comes the bones,

after eating a very bony fish, you end up looking like Pinhead from Hellraiser,

Bones, horror films, tuna, boats, chicken and the like,

these are the things that my mind has conjured up today,

come back soon for some even weirder shit! 



4 thoughts on “Stream of Consciousness Poem

  1. …ahhhh, ok.

    Posted by henrygame | July 13, 2014, 8:11 am
  2. Yeah it is. Henry is thinking that maybe you’re nuttier than squirrel pooh?

    Posted by henrygame | July 13, 2014, 10:33 pm

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