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Тема
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 Една страничка
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MaPBuH () |
| Публикувано | 08.06.03 14:59 |
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Some poetry
Not unexpectedly, our office has received a number of requests for poetry over the years. We have asked several staff members for submissions. Good Vogons all, they are certainly capable of truly horrendous work, but seemed totally unwilling to produce any. It came as a pleasant surprise this week when an old, yellow, rumpled Demolition order form was slipped under the door of the server room. On the back, in green crayon, was a poem. The work was not as polished as that of the director of our CONSTRUCTOR(TM) Fleet, Captain Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz, but it does contain a certain... dense, unpleasant essence. No author was listed, but I've added my theory as to it's real parentage. It has been reproduced for you here:
Listen to that sound, like an old tree
rattling against your house on a windy day.
You thought it was your leaky heart,
or your aging lungs,
but it isn't.
It's the Death Duck
quacking outside your window,
coveting your larder with his beady little eyes.
He isn't a smart or a skillful duck,
but he is as indestructible as stupidity.
Sooner or later, through sheer inadvertence,
he will find himself inside your home,
and then he will greedily consume your vitality.
You will die with the certain knowledge
that you could have lived another day, or perhaps a year
or a decade, if only you had known
exactly which shingle or loose board to fix,
or which door to keep locked on that particular day.
-- Forkhead
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