Who Wants To Read Some Poems I Wrote When I Was 15/16 Years Old?

Come on. WHAT part of that doesn't sound like a great idea?

So, there was a "Comedy Special" edition of the Chester Arms open mic night and I was going to read these poems out at it. The idea came from listening to the Andrew Collins & Richard Herring 6Music podcast. On their show, they did a segment called "Poetry Smackdown" where they would each read a poem they wrote in their teens. Of course, the standard of poetry is an embarrassment, that's the point, and the segment is always at the very least quite funny and at the most, pant-wettingly hilarious. I remember walking down Cowley Road listening to one particular podcast episode and I got some very odd looks due to the fact that I had to stop walking as I was almost crying with laughter when Richard Herring read out the line "The only water that was pure, was from an orphan's tears."

Anyway, for reasons I won't go into now, I couldn't go. I was going to do them at the next months one instead, but couldn't make that one either. Then I was going to at last night's one, but there were only about 8 or 9 people there due to a) the torrential rain we had in Oxford yesterday evening, and b) George's admission that he had done virtually no promotion for it this month. Hey, cut him some slack, he's just moved into a boat. No, seriously.

Anyway, the atmosphere wasn't there, so I didn't feel comfortable with doing it, so as a sort of punishment for neglecting this blog, I'm going to post them up on here. These poems are the ones I selected to perform from the worrying amount of dreadful teenage poetry I found in my old bedroom at my Mum's flat. I hope you find them amusing.

Just to reiterate, I know these poems are embarrassingly bad, that's the point. When I found these again, I couldn't stop laughing at how bad they are. When I was 15/16 though, I actually thought these were really good and profound and meaningful. How stupid I was.

Right. Are you ready? Here goes.

School.

School,

Ain't cool.

Full of fools,

Stupid schools.

Loads of teachers,

Bloody preachers.

Children go there,

People don't care.

Children do well,

Further Ed. Hell.

Children fail,

Parents wail.

"Best days of your lives,"

The ageing Grandpa cries.

How the bloody hell would he know?

For him it was so long ago.

Paul.

Paul,

Hit the wall,

it was small,

He was tall.

What an unfortunate thing to do,

But he knows lots of tall people have done this too.

He's walking along with his head in a cloud,

Eating and talking and walking so proud.

But now, Oh my God, it has happened again,

All of his proud thoughts have gone down the drain.

And now all the harsh words are hurting his brain,

And he'll probably go off and die of the brain.

You know Paul was actually never that sane,

And now his poor death is all in such vain.

August The 1st.

I'm sorry, but I don't find it funny,

How stupid people spend all their money.

They throw it away in desperation,

To buy a new car with a new registration.

Some do it to chuckle, snigger and sneer,

At those who have not got a car of this year.

Why do they do it? (Sad bastards!) Who knows?

I just hope they rust and decay when it snows.

That would teach them!

Some people of course, do have good reasons,

They're not like the ones, just after the seasons,

new choice.

A new voice,

That's what's needed, before we all go mad.

There are more important things than cars you know!...

Mung Bean.

I'm a mung bean,

Put me in your casserole.

Then you'll eat me,

And I will die inside your body.

But I'll be happy,

For it's the only place I want to be.

I love you.

Right. I think that's enough embarrassment for one day.