Here, in Part 2 of my homage to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
is an actual example of Vogon poetry by the Vogon master pictured above (isn't he so photogenic?) Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz:
Arthur Dent sat and quivered. He had no idea what he was in for, but he knew that he hadn't liked anything that had happened so far and didn't think things were likely to change.
The Vogon began to read — a fetid little passage of his own devising.
"Oh frettled gruntbuggly ..." he began. Spasms wracked Ford's body — this was worse than ever he'd been prepared for.
"... thy micturations are to me As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee."
"Aaaaaaarggggghhhhhh!" went Ford Prefect, wrenching his head back as lumps of pain thumped through it. He could dimly see beside him Arthur lolling and rolling in his seat. He clenched his teeth.
"Groop I implore thee," continued the merciless Vogon, "my foonting turlingdromes."
His voice was rising to a horrible pitch of impassioned stridency. "And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles, Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!"
"Nnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyuuuuuuurrrrrrrggggggghhhhh!" cried Ford Prefect and threw one final spasm as the electronic enhancement of the last line caught him full blast across the temples. He went limp.
"Now Earthlings ..." whirred the Vogon (he didn't know that Ford Prefect was in fact from a small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, and wouldn't have cared if he had) "I present you with a simple choice! Either die in the vacuum of space, or ..." he paused for melodramatic effect, "tell me how good you thought my poem was!"
and in the final Vogon post tomorrow, Part 3: Why does Prostenic Vogon Jeltz write poetry?
6 hours ago