Henry Fool poem competition – The Grate American Poem

by

Unlike the former entrants to this competition, I have not seen the film Henry Fool. Thus I am ideally placed to surmise the contents of the unspoken poem that is not seen nor heard within. It is regretfully long, for which I make no apology. This is it:

The Grate American Poem

Prologue

Henry fool

Standing proud

So hip and cool

I wanna be him but I can’t

***

Henry Fool

Henry Fool my friend the tool

Did raise and rear my intellect

But beat it cruel

Abused my school

And left my anus bloodspecked

Kitchen

During the sluicing hour

I shiver to the kitchen

Linoleum floor cold on my bare feet

The draft planting icy kisses on my bare balls

Something wet runs down my leg

Drawer

I rummage in a drawer

For something I might use

Job

Listen to the rustle of the cutlery

This job needs not pen nor pencil

Poem time is over for this smug bastard

I need a cold and sharp kitchen utensil

Floor

I have it in my hand

And crawl upon the floor

My testes dragging on the shag

As I head t’ward his door

Juice

In his room I quiver with fear

Or maybe it’s the thrill;

I set to work

‘Pon the bumfuck’s face

Awake

I don’t know how long I worked

But Fool began to stir

“What are you doing there,

Kneeling on the floor?”

I brandished my tool,

My Excalibur

My pen

It is a cheese-grater.

Face

“My face”, cried Fool through grated lips,

“All in strips and bits ‘pon my floor

With you, Simon, grating more

Grating and gyrating

Rubbing and grubby

Kneeling amidst

The shreds of my face

What for?”

Love

I hate you, I spat

Though I rate your work

And I am going to grate you all to bits

Like a carrot or some cheese.

“Your poems suck balls”

He drooled through bloodied face

As slivers of flesh and fat

Flicked about the place

Rewarding

I grated on and on and on

My hands soaked crimson red

His former face was quite a mess

A mush of fleshy threads

They spelt out words, to my tired eyes

‘Write a poem’ is what it said

I wrote these lines upon the wall

My clothes now long since shed,

Dedicated to Henry Fool

I’m glad the bastard’s dead.

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6 Responses to “Henry Fool poem competition – The Grate American Poem”

  1. Banjo Fett Says:

    I applaud your colourful work here, Ropey. I am not ashamed to say I wiped a tear from my eye at the end.

  2. johnlebaptiste Says:

    “My testes dragging upon the shag”

    Hyuk! and Yuk!

  3. johnlebaptiste Says:

    “Sluicing hour” is the best expression I’ve ever heard.

  4. oldrope Says:

    Dont you have one in your house…?

  5. jlebaptiste Says:

    No. I gets all my sluicing done in one hot minute. I’m a sluice-n-go kinda guy.

  6. oldrope Says:

    The modern world! Everything is too quick, no one makes time for sluicing these days

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