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"EXTRA EXTRA GAMEADAY (September Poetry) sponsored by Fate herself"

Here's a great suggestion which came up in digestion. If you can turn a tidy rhyme then you can make a prime dime.

Subject: Internet, Special Reserve, Freeola, Games, Consoles and/or people or animals of the forums (including staff)*.

Your subject must be any or all of the above otherwise your poem will not count.

Best poem by midday on September 5th wins a £25 EXTRA GAD prize. That's any game of your choice up to £25. (Poems are worth much to us)

Only one winner. The Judge will be Fate (my wife).

Oh yes - leave out the complete rubbish PLEASE. And if it is supposed to be the words to a tune then please tell us which tune as we don't carry a juke box of ditties in our little heads.

*er - I don't mean the staff are animals.

The third and final part to my poetic saga...

THE ODE TO C:\
(translated from the original ancient Java texts)

Oh C:\ you keep DRIVING me crazy
See, you pretend to be empty, but you're just idle and lazy,
why don't you erase ME? cos I'm sure that you hate me
You've caused me more stress than I thought possible lately.
It takes me too long to re-format your fragments,
you treat me like a door-mat, that's why I need tablets
to restrain me from wiping with a powerful magnet
and sacrificing your life like the virgin in Dragnet.

A:\, D:\ and E:\... they set good examples
But I'm in A&E because my C:\ drive's that harmful.
Even 'Murder C:\ wrote' and maybe Miss Marple
can't work out why my hard drive is harder than marble.
So I ask you, I plead, please be more considerate
I'll buy you more RAM, go on, please do consider it
cos if you don't start behaving, you know I'll incinerate
your iron-cast casing and your data-filled inner-plates.

So there you go, my dear PC, there is an ultimatum
if you don't fix up easy, I will take you to a fete'n'
sell you for 20 pence to some guy whose mum's making
a droid for robot wars, one with crummy brakes'n'
dummy-guns that break... so that you get smacked'n'hacked
then I can pop down to the shops a buy myself an Apple Mac
(and to cover up my torn-out hair I'll get a hat or cap)
And with any luck my new computer won't provoke these battle raps.

Go on then, one more.

A magazine dropped through my door,
Filled with games and much, much more,
The title told me who to blame,
For Special Reserve had made their claim,
Upon my life and all my time,
As in their net I would entwine,
Stuck by a force named Game A Day.
So on their website I would stay,
Forever lost in Fog and Life,
And not returning to my wife,
But SR kept me in my room,
Until she chased me with a broom,
But soon enough I would return,
And many new things I would learn,
Of Games and Films and Ceiling Wax,
And of those newbie Spam attacks.
The habit I have tried to fling,
But Snuggly in my ear would sing,
"You know you want your Game A Day"
And back to SR I would sway,
To live my net life once again,
Upon the FOG with Grix's Brain,
And Goatboy's drums and Stryke's weird Tales,
And Sniper with his silly mails,
And Tony who is god of all,
While all around him posters crawl.
So I will always be stuck here,
Inside this place I hold so dear,
Never to be left alone,
Except when someone needs the phone.

The Game By SmileDude

It's such a shame,
You're playing the game and losing all the time

You try to play fair,

No one seems to care

And winning is on your mind

You're playing with fools,

Who don't play by the rules

You don't know what to do

Once you cross over that line,

Then everything is fine

It's clear sailing the whole way through

Your work is done,

You've finally won,

Now nothing ever stays the same

You thought you couldn't do it,

But there was really nothing to it

Now you are ahead of...

The Game

Less a poem, more a wretched curse. Should be screamed loudly, in a potentially nasal fashion, to the backing noise of dustbins being crashed unrythmically over Bill Gates' head. With millions of people gurgling and wailing in the background.

Crash, freeze, invalid username or password
*dash* I might need to lend computer games to class-nerds
I'm simply too frustrated to rectify this problem:
a wrinkly frown portrays my PCs infest by goblins.
Teeth ground, hair pulled out in clumps,
Beep sounds and a hard drive memory dump,
I may be a chump or a bit of a doofus
I'm @the mercy of windows which is ridiculously ruthless

Corrupted system files and viral BIOS voodoo
it's enough to twist the mind of an IT boss' guru
I spend ten hours a week repairing this pile
of bent vents and power leads I could compare to the style
of the first ever proto-type Blue Peter computer...
this verse never vocalised before 2 heated reboots. Grrrr.

So now it's time to try to find my inner sanctum,
By playing Time Crisis and tryin to kill the tanks'n'
unleashing some aggression on a nice reliable console:
a therapeutic session to calm my mind, don't deny I should have done so...
before I deleted all my mp3s.
Grrrr... I HATE my empty PC.


Argh. Die you steaming grey hulk of mineral-enhanced silicon... If you think you're getting any more of MY electricity from MY power socket, you're very much mistaken....


fizzz..

pop.

Tony wrote:
> *er - I don't mean the staff are animals.
******
Oh how wrong you are
;o)

Goatboy wrote:
> But if you pay me some silver I'll dance like a bear!
*******
*Throws a bag of silver to Goatboy's feet*
Now dance!

How on Earth could you write poetry about games,
They aren't reality, rather places where gamers indulge.
A sub-reality where we can all achieve fame,
Where we can forget about our battles with the stomach bulge.

We can race against friends,
Lead armies and conquer worlds.
Fight to the bitter end,
Or kick a freekick with a beautiful curl.

So i hope somebody out there is good at poetry,
For the topic at hand really does bore me.

$p!d£y wrote:
> The logo is red
> The layout is blue
> I can't write poems
> And this place is full of Homo's.

LOL, not anymore. Well, as soon as we get rid of Reynolds anyway. And Savo, don't come back, we don't wany anymore homo's...

there once was a Kidrock from, er, his room,
he tried to make love to a broom,
the broom wouldnt have it, so Kidrock got his rabbit,

and i think i better stop there, because i might get banned if i carry on

Some simple poetry..

My GBA
I can walk around and play
The light is bad but hey
It's my GBA...

My X..Box
My friends all think its sucks
But the games in fact are wack (?)
That's my X..Box

My Game-Cube
Theres a light in the shape of a tube
Games are on tiny discs too
For it's my Game-Cube

My PS..2
I love it through and through..
And so do the majority of you
For it's my supery PS2

My Chat Forum
Its nothing like Dulce et Decorum
But at least it's not bad, it's sumthin
Thats my Chat Forum

I'm soo bored...