Poet Authority Poem Terminal

Ken chose to give Lisbon's public transportation another chance.

He checked the bus timetable,

Pitched his tent,

Set up a camping stove,

And enjoyed an evening listening to the traffic pass by.

People must know I've visited Portugal.

Ken looked left.

Pessoa appeared.

Ken looked right.

Pessoa appeared.

Ken ran.

Barged into a shop.

Pessoa surrounded him.

There was no escape.

Which can be spelt in a way that is less easy to pronounce if you like.

Additionally it's in Sintra, in case you're looking for it.

It was inconveniently placed at the top of a mountain.

In a tremendously humid place.

Anyway,

Ken climbed the humid misty mountains of Sintra.

Palace in view.

But not really,

Because of the aforementioned mist.

In actuality he couldn't see much at all.

But he imagined it must be a rather impressive sight.

At the peak he clambered over tourists,

Reached the highest point of the palace itself,

And gazed back down the mountains.

Or at least he would have.

You know, if the mist wasn't in the way.

He'd been told about big waves.

Or towering waves.

To make things a bit more poetic.

He gazed at the oceans from the town.

Not today,

I suppose.

Alighting a plane.

In the country of Portugal.

Larry looked across from his seat. 

In front of the steering wheel. 

Winked at the woman beside him. 

And increased his speed to 31mph.

He was eager to engage with airport security.

Spend a bit of time getting to know the locals.

Wore a very bright shirt.

And some tight trousers.

An overwhelming experience.

He couldn't get his head straight.

Couldn't work out how to unbutton the things.

Trapped.

No longer the ordinary man he knew.

All Trevor did to apologise was buy some flowers from Tesco!

She threw them in the toilet.

Pushed the little flush button or pulled the handle or whatever helps you imagine the flushing of a toilet.

But the flowers refused to plunge to the watery depths.

And Trevor stood there laughing as she had to scoop them back out.

Tried to write a poem on my phone.

It didn't work out.

Miriam chuckled at the photograph.

There was a pause.

To impress a girl.

Who he hoped,

Was into knights.

Additionally he obtained

A roll of foil from Sainsbury's.

To construct additional adornments.

Such as a helmet.

And to wrap up his sandwiches.

Thought Grubbles.

While filling out his dating profile.

Shared again,

Because no one can afford anything these days. 

It turns out her new housemates are astoundingly dull.

Everyone knew what they were doing.

Everything was organised.

And no food ever disappeared in unexplained circumstances. 

One night things got so tedious she pretended to go to bed early. 

Crept into the kitchen, 

And turned the fridge off.

She could not wait for tomorrow morning.

Potto went on holiday.

He forgot to hydrate. 

His urine became orange.

Like the setting sun.

Which reminded him of the aforementioned.

And he smiled a little.

Loaded up WhatsApp. 

'I'm afraid I'm going to have to pull out of this charity walk, lads'

He sent, along with pictorial evidence. 

Then he put away his toolbox 

And launched Skyrim.

'But we're out of toilet paper, Eric'

'Bud, there's some paper in the printer.'

'Can't we just go today?'

'Tuesday's shopping day.'

Joined a sea gym to bulk up.

Really increase the levels of intimidation he could achieve.

Then he swam around boats,

With his muscular fin protruding from the water,

Cutting huge waves in the ocean.

And watched as the little sailor men quivered.