When I Rhyme I Get All Vulgar

I have spent much of today working on an old idea I'd put on the backburner. It was a rebuttal of the widely accepted belief that Welsh as a language adopts English words and puts 'io' at the end of them in order to Welshise them. More accurately, it was addressing the belief that this is a bad thing, for it certainly does happen. I have built up a large list of English words and phrases that are plucked wholesale from other languages.

I was hoping to work this up into a comedy routine, but I realised as I was writing it that it was far too dry, and that I would come across as lecturing and dry. I also figured that I wouldn't be able to remember all of the phrases, as it would require remembering the material word for word rather than simply remembering the relevant funny bits that I have to get to. So instead of that I figured I'd try and write it up as a poem, so that I could conceivably read it from the page until the point where I had memorised it, and also hoping that the rhythm and rhyme would make it seem less critical and give it more of a humourous edge. As it stands at the moment that really isn't the case, and over the course of the afternoon it became a lot longer than I expected it to. I finished it off very sharply, and I decided to leave it for awhile, I'll go back and have a stab at shearing it down when I have fresher eyes for it.

For the rest of the afternoon I was stuck in a rhyming mood, and I still had a lot of foreign phrases that I hadn't used. I wrote a number of shorter, less serious poems, most of which focus almost exclusively on sexual perversions. My mind isn't much of a mystery. So today is a poetic entry, I'll post a few of the short poems underneath, I hope you enjoy them.

*****

Pole-Dancing etc.

The good sir, a voyeur,

Gave to the concierge a dossier.

Safe passage to a secluded somewhere,

Where he can sink into a chair,

And sink his eyes on fleshy derriere.

The room is a dimly lit pit, a gaudy safari,

The women contorted in impossible human origami,

To please the empty, broken men,

and their empty, broken salami.

*****

Lewd, crude and in the mewd

This is a missive from my perversion

to womankind at large:

I would like to spill my man-fromage,

All over your decolletage.

*****

A fruity misunderstanding between a Frenchman and a German (in English)

Au contraire, mein Herr,

This is not an apple,

but a pear.

*****

I wrote a few more little ones, and I found an old first draft which I will play around with soon, so there should be more poetry in the near future.

I hope that fills you with joy.

IT SHOULD!

Oh, by the way, we (The ACRE) have put up another sketch on our youtube channel, it's waiting here for you. There's a new podcast out today aswell, but I'm sure you are all familiar with that anyhow. If you aren't, search for them on iTunes, they're called The ACRE Podcasts.

I hope you have pleasant waking hours.

@adamgilder

www.theacre.net

acrecomedy@gmail.com