The Norton Anthology of Poetry, Vogon Edition

Platypus

Fratundling lightly through the grass,
Urply slumltry o'er hills;
Plurdled quaypoofs emitting gas,
Turgid pea that once was Bill's,
For nonce, for thee,
For shame, debris,
Waddled pomorphousising fetid puce
Formless poit by mangled goose
Drunkish foobly stare
By the garden gate
A razed platypus do contemplate.

Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning

Gashee gobberwarts and keratoacanthomas
Seborrheic keratoses, dermatofibromas
Dermoid cysts and pyogenic granulomas
Skin growths galore bursting forth with splen'drous warm puss

Skin tags and keloids and dysplastic nevi
As tasty and fruitful as Apple Brown Betty
Lipomas and moles are so scrumptious and nutty
But none taste so sweet as this lump of green putty

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

Wizened fortuitousitude begs an answer
Lurgid shamblings to the rhythm of a dancer
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
Nearly always preferred to hepaticocholangiocholecystenterostomitosis
Lungs diseased or rancid gall bladder
Convoluted marmoset calculates something is the matter
Asping mlumly by the bloited incomprehensibilities
While I munch upon a slice of cheese

My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles

An excerpt from the full 12-book epic by poet master Grunthos the Flatulent

Hooptiously flagurgling with flatulence aplenty,
From dining on cysts sweet as Apple Brown Betty;
I steeped in the tub and what sounds I did make,
Erupting the water like an ocean floor quake;

Bleems blooping blick from expungiest foonting;
Micturations fleck ick on the walls by my tooting;
Groop floating topside, fripping with ecch;
Chronic gabbleblotchitis spurting forth bleghh;

The sound and the fury of the gruntbuggling disaster,
With the noises and smells from my guts blowing faster;
From bindlewurdle-filled bowels, teeming with gases,
Blown every which way from my half-dozen asses.

Do Not Mow Bleckly

Topaz is widely accepted to be the worst of all Vogon poets, which it to say that his verse is almost tolerable to human ears. While normally a poem of this damnable quality would not be included in this book, it is notable for two reasons: one, it created the grassroots movement that resulted in Earth being demolished; and two, it was appropriated by Dylan Thomas and released as an "original" work.

Do not mow bleckly o'er that dust mite,
For that hyperspace bypass to make way;
Rage, rage against the dying of the mite.

Though Vogons build their roads for reasons right,
Phlegg creatures may be caballed on the way;
Do not mow wreckly o'er that dust mite.

Tiny germs must we strive to treat polite;
Their frail souls might we trounce by our survey;
Rage against the death of the parasite.

Wild spores we catch and stun from flensome flight,
And learn, too late, by our error we slay.
Do not mow bleckly o'er that dust mite.

But men deserve death for their blinded sight;
A predator worthy of being prey;
Rage, rage against the dying of the mite.

Reduce the heathen from their errant height;
Curse, kill them now with your machines, I pray.
Do not mow wreckly o'er that dust mite,
Rage against the death of the parasite.

Why bother?

See, see the imbalanced sky
Marvel at its big puce depths.
Tell me, <insert name here> do you
wonder why the star-nosed mole ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel bleary-eyed.
I can tell you, it is
worried by your fnurdle facial growth
that looks like
a cheese.
What's more, it knows
your pissant potting shed
smells of pea.
Everything under the big imbalanced sky
asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm entrails.