The Goat
In answer to this Question of the Week
I will make you gargle, drool and shriek -
For I am a poet,
And yes, I do know it,
But very rarely
Do I show it.
But now's my chance
So shit your pants -
Here's a poem what I wrote;
It's entitled thus: The Goat

***

The Goat

A goat stood
in a field
staring
at the cars on the motorway
as they zoomed past.
It was a sunny day.

Crows flew
in the sky
above the goat.
And in the field
daises grew.

A man in a car
on the motorway
on his way to a conference
driving fast
listening to Classic FM
and thinking about how he wanted to throw in his job and leave his wife and his kid and hang around the gay bars in his home town of Clowne (near Sheffield) because he was past 40 and life was making no sense
farted.

IT STANK.

But the goat
could not smell it
because it was far away
in the field
and the car was zooming fast along the motorway
getting farther and further away.

And the crows
could not smell it either
because they were flying high
in the sky
above the field
and the motorway
and the car was zooming fast along the motorway
getting further and farther away
and was soon miles away
where the man stopped at a motorway service station for a dump
and a cup of coffee
which cost £3.95
(the coffee that is, not the dump. That cost 30p)
(it's not called 'Cost'-a Coffee for nothing)
(except this was a Caffe Ritazza)
(Caffe Ripoffa more like)
(I mean, £3.9shitting5 for a carboard cup of crap coffee!)
and made him mutter ‘for fuck’s sake’ under his breath
but the girl behind the counter heard
and thought ‘fat cunt’
and later posted the incident on Customers Suck
and went out that night and got pissed and met a charming lad called Chuck
who had a job driving a truck
to Innsbruck
what a stroke of luck

BUT I SMELT IT
because I was
sitting in the passenger seat
next to the man
who farted.
(Oh the vagaries of hitch-hiking.)
And the girl was right –
he was a fat cunt
like Eric Pickles.
But flatulence was the least of his problems
as he told me at length.
If you’re ever in the gay district of Clowne
(near Sheffield)
you might see him trying
and failing
to drown
his sorrows.

(As it’s spelled Clown with an E
I thought it might be pronounced Clone
rather appropriately
in the circumstances –
so I checked
and it isn’t. It’s pronounced Clown.)

I abandoned him in Caffe Ritazza
and got a lift from a man in a Farm Foods van
who somewhat resembled
a pre-breakdown
Gazza.

(I know it’s probably pronounced Rit-AT-za
but, you know, poetic license?)

And the goat
still stood
in the field
staring
at the cars on the motorway
as they zoomed past.
With the crows
circling above.
And the daises
growing below.

It was a sunny day.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Tue 19 May 2015, 21:25, 14 replies)

nice hammaphore

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 19 May 2015, 22:17, closed)

Thanks sweetie!
What about my henweigh?
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Wed 20 May 2015, 21:47, closed)

Draw through your verse,
Ire.
Hopes of your death,
Fire.
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Wed 20 May 2015, 0:55, closed)

I hope Dr Skagra dies in a fire.

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Wed 20 May 2015, 8:24, closed)

you are fifteen and a virgin aicmfp

(lol man river definite greek god, Wed 20 May 2015, 8:51, closed)

oh please can't you just
comply with all our wishes
and die in a fire
(localboy purveyor of pisspoor puns, Wed 20 May 2015, 9:40, closed)

Did anyone read this? I didn't.

(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Wed 20 May 2015, 9:55, closed)

GCSE English

(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Wed 20 May 2015, 9:56, closed)

goatfucker

( 2 Can Chunder Word to your mums, I came to prod bums, Wed 20 May 2015, 11:48, closed)