Poet Authority Poem Terminal

The nerds arrived.
Played their games again.
Imagined their filthy dungeons.
Rolled their eccentric dice.
Did too much maths.

Barry agreed to marry Susan.
He'd forgotten he was gay!
He realised his mistake at the altar.
It was a terrible time for Susan.
Barry didn't feel great about it either.

John joined a book club.
Quickly he learned he loathed hearing their opinions.
He nodded along with the discussion eating snacks and guzzling bottles of wine.
His behaviour from then on was atrocious.
He folded the book's pages around his lad and started thrusting away.
Shouting about how if they loved the book so much they should join in
They should marry it.
John never received an invite back.

He danced hard
Arms flailing
Bodies flying everywhere
Battered and bruised
Clawing their way from the dance floor

Barold arrived at the pub with an extra long straw.
He weaved his straw through the punters and slurped from their glasses.
Barold's investments in toilet paper and pasta hadn't yet paid off.

Dilbert ignored government advice and held a full on part-ay in his garden.
A massive gazebo sat proudly in the centre and bunting zigzagged between the fences.
On arrival each new guest wore the same giant hat and coat.
Dilbert tried to sneak them in one by one as though they were the same person.
He whacked the vol. up to maximus to mask the talking.
Ultimately none of this helped.
It still looked incredibly suspicious and the police arrived twenty minutes later.

Queen Lizzo peeled her prince from the cupboard and rolled him into the garden.
The guards unfolded his legs and propped him up for a quick snap.
As the birthday trumpets howled the wind caught Phil.
The guards ran around helplessly, desperate to catch him.

Beefy extended his novelty fork the full two metres and hooked a slab of meat off the barbecue.
He glanced over the cow and prepared for the big count.
There was Chopsy, Hunk, Nugget, Mincer, Leggers, and of course his very own Beefy.
Six! Beefy sighed with relief, the barbecue was in accordance with government guidelines and he was perfectly safe.
"Wait a minute, who the hell is that?!" Beefy extended his fork at the mystery person.
The stranger gnawed a gob of meat off Beefy's slab and gave him a little wink.
The meat oozed down the stranger's tracksuit and misted up his Ray-Bans.

The whole street clutched their rope of invulnerability
They cackled and danced and gasped all over each other
It was hard to believe nobody had thought of this sooner
Not a single tug-of-war team was reported to have caught coronavirus!
"Join the tether Miriam!" hacked Conga Clive
The sun beamed down into Chief Ropesman Dave's magenta dome

Spoonsman slapped his favourite movie soundtrack into the cassette player
He absolutely blasted '(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life' into the neighbour's wall
Medley rattled the walls as ancient cobwebs dislodged from the nightmarish crevices of his room
Spoonsman was eager for the complaints to arrive
He made sandwiches and put on his finest dressing gown
His chap betrayed him
He was anticipating some human interaction

It was time for a birthday party
Agnes hooked a bunch of party poppers up to a length of string
She tied the other end to a door handle
The candles on her flourless cake flickered away
She kicked the door closed and blew out the flames as the poppers ejaculated all over her
She clapped and cheered and grabbed fistfuls of her cake
She was absolutely devouring it

Tommy went to the busiest bottleneck he could find
It was time for more clapping!
Tommy wasn't going to be outdone again
He heaved a full drum kit down the street and hung a rather voluptuous horn around his neck
He pursed his lips and parped valiantly into his spit nozzle
He clapped gleefully and coated the crowd in a veneer of slobber

Fudge roamed his house tugging mirrors off the walls
Even that little one in the bathroom had been dismantled
His arms were heavy with mirrors as he waddled to the kitchen
Each of them was placed in their very own dining chair and given a bib and name tag
He slopped up some dinner and held some rather indulgent conversations

Kipling finally set up his tree and informed friends Christmas celebrations were set to begin

He insisted they bring gifts and a pre-cooked turkey

The rest of the trimmings would be appreciated too

"It's the fourth of Febbo Kippers, I'm not doing it"

"None of us are, we've moved on mate" messaging continued in the group chat

Kipling's attempts at being a contrarian didn't appear to be paying off