National Poetry Month #17

A Martian astronomer, eh? Yesterday's post segues perfectly (Prefectly?) into today's. For though it's technically National Poetry Month, there's nobody saying we don't welcome the enthusiasm of folks from other countries... worlds... or even solar systems.

Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz has quite a way with words.

Why, the Vogons from Douglas Adams' comic sci-fi masterpiece The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy are great lovers of poetry (though the Guide indicates that their poetry is actually artistically the third worst in the universe).

Here's a wonderful example:

Oh freddled gruntbuggly, 
Thy micturations are to me, 
As plurdled gabbleblotchits, 
On a lurgid bee, 
That mordiously hath bitled out, 
Its earted jurtles, 
Into a rancid festering confectious inner-sphincter. [drowned out by moaning and screaming] 
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles, 
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts, 
And living glupules frart and slipulate, 
Like jowling meated liverslime.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes, 
And hooptiously drangle me, 
With crinkly bindlewurdles, 
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, 
See if I don't.