Poem - It’s a balls life

This week I went to the monthly Sydney poetry night at the Friend in Hand in Glebe and decided to try something a bit different. Live crowds seem to respond better to more amusing works and given that it was Grand Final weekend just gone, I thought I'd try something along those lines.

Here it is, for better or worse.
(More than likely worse but taking yourself seriously too much can get a bit dull).

It’s a balls life

It’s a full football weekend

two grand finals in two days

There’s more testosterone than a school of speeding seals

In an ice cave brothel

Children are bearing pointed teeth with ripped flesh

Women are sprouting hair like Sasquatch

Brazilians reversing in an Evil Dead forest scene in triple time.

Collingwood fan

Trees tainted by taunts…

Skies sandwiched by streamers

Blue white and red left ripped with roars

Cover your ears, or be gnawed by boars.

Infamous NRL Grand Final bite.

There’s got to be an analogy in here somewhere of balls

There’s enough of those oval shapes to spice up soup for an cannibal army

Goalposts pointing to the sky like penises

Primed for pumping

Try’s eclipsed

By testicular ticklers

Eulogy’s written by managers of losing teams

Comparing death and sacked nations to the injustice of the play

It’s just a game

No its fucking not!

AFL 2012 Grand Final - Sydney vs Hawthorn

Umpires more evil than a pinched prostate

Rhetoric flows thicker than a politician’s poo

The blows in sweep in like it’s part of their job

Thus, A blow job

The cup floweth over

Ah

Don’t go there.

No more testing the troops with testes

Let it lie

Flaccid and forlorn

There’s always a loser

In love and in footy

And if balls aren't your thing

There’s always next year’s

Fishing trip.

But I ain't writing that one.

NRL Melbourne Storm fans

Another semi amusing poem I wrote turned out better so I might try and submit it around before I share it here.

This week I had a rejection from The New Yorker. It amused me really as I won't ever get published there. It's just not me. Yet the story I submitted is a good one and a world away from this poem. I suppose I did it almost as a joke, but it's still nice to be validated (I think) even if it was a brief form email that I waited three months for.

There were other rejections and submissions this week. And that's just how it rolls.

Hope you have a nice week.