- VEGETAL
PHILOSOPHY
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- Is a Cucumber encumbered with evil
As it steals from the innocent Weevil?
Or does the Carrot parrot soul
Because it cannot bear it whole
And so becomes addendum to the Deevil...
Is the Cucumber Post-Modern or Medieval?
Does Asparagus aspire to higher places
Disparaging the lure of common spaces?
Will a Cabbage deign to savage Pears
While keeping up its Attic airs
Perversely abrogating finer graces...
Does Asparagus really know the fate it faces?
"I think not!" says Kid Tomato
To the umbrage of Potato
Who's a elder in the Church of Vegemundi.
"Who really cares?" intones the Parsnip
Who is actually quite a barstard.
Ergot kohlarabi fridgapundi...
Will Lettuce ever let itself be good
Or contemplate a crime deep in the woods?
Should a Pumpkin pump a boy-in-pew
Like priestlings out in Bumpton do
Or hunker down and turn into a prude…
Is Lettuce ever in a praying mood?
- “What utter rot!” shouts Maude the Radish
- Who the Turnip thinks is faddish
- As she squeezes her slim figure through the strainer.
- “Who gives a fig!” orates the Lima
- Who believes that he is much sublimer
- In his burping lavender plastic container.
-
- Philosophy is difficult to master
- For vegetables a terrible disaster
- They try to think but all for nought
- They squeeze out pulp instead of thought
- It won’t help if you just tell them to go faster…
- They’ll never be an angel or a pastor.
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- JESUS
WAS SO FUCKING GOOD
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-
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-
- Jesus was so fucking good
- They hung him on a piece of wood
"Fucking hell!" he said to Daddy,
"All in all, I'd rather caddy."
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- JEFFREY’S
HAIR (A LOBSTER’S BUTTERED TALE)
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-
-
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- That Charismatic Crawling Hand which tugged the
Brazen Boats
- Of Aromatic Lobsters in their Porcelainic Coats
- Across that stitch of Ocean lacking Decent Bed and
Fare
- Like a Train lost in the busy Rain drowning
Jeffrey’s Hair
-
- Was not and shall never be
- Is not as far as my Eye can see.
-
-
- The Aramaic Lobsters with Itchy Faces sour and sweet
- That the Corpulental Crawling Hand excavates for Meat
- On a Sub-Saharan Shuttle Train without Decent Jam and
Beer
- Upon the Wilted Sea of Weak Milk-Tea that moistens
Jeffrey’s Hair
-
- Were not and shall never be
- Are not as far as my Eyes can see.
-
-
- The Occipital Ocean rare upon whose Steps we strode
- To catch the Tenebraic Train which barricades the
Road
- Leading to the Crawling Hand dying in the Air
- Like the Anorexic Lobsters that often cough up
Jeffrey’s Hair
-
- Was not and shall never be
- Is not as far as my Eye can see.
-
-
- The Hippothalmic sleeping Car dines on Postman’s
Glue
- And nests within the Swiss Cheese Sea which
obfuscates our View
- Of the AutoMatic Lobsters in a Golf Cart in Bel-Air
- With the Crawling Hand (a Girl or Man) smoothing
Jeffrey’s Hair
-
- Was not and shall never be
- Is not as far as my Eye can see.
-
- This AlterNautic Lobster Tail dressed and fairly
Breaded
- By the Corrugated Crawling Hand once beloved and now
regretted
- In a Transylvanian Tank Car stuffed with Scrod who
care to dare
- To drink the Sea that took a Fee for dampening
Jeffrey’s Hair
-
- Was not and shall never be
- Is not as far as my Eye can see.
-
-
- That Copromantic Crawling Hand which tugged the
Brassiere Boats
- Of Anaerobic Lobsters in their Puisillanic Coats
- Across that stitch of Ocean lacking Decent Bed and
Fare
- Like a Train lost in the Buzzard’s Rain drowning
Jeffrey’s Hair
-
- Was not and shall never be
- Is not as far as my Eye can see.
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- FOLK
SONG
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-
-
-
- Said
the Mentos to the Meatball
- "Let's
have a go at fishing"
-
- "But
the sediment's so settled"
- Said
the Marble to the Menthols
-
- The
aforesaid Dementos
- Saddled
up their muscled centaurs
-
- "To
the shallows" said the Mess Hall
- But
he was sadly maddened
-
- By
the sight of Sally Mudhole
- In
a surrey merely shady
-
- Near
a middling shed of metal
- In Somerset Missouri
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- NARROWLY
AND TERRIBLY, THE MOON AWFULLY AND CHEERILY
“Would you all say that in general it's probably best to avoid
adverbs? And why or why not? Does it wreck a poem? Can it make
your writing too prosey? Does it mean that a poem is weakly
constructed?
Narrowly and
Terribly
The moon
Awfully and
Cheerily
Spitefully and
Especially
The sun
Huskily and
Pleasurably
Then
Warily
Then
Horribly
Dependably
Then
Quickly
The stars so
Merrily
Merrily
Merrily
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- OH THE
DAY IS LONGER THAN MY GOWN
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-
-
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- Oh
the Day is longer than my Gown
- When
the Solstice comes to Town
- When
the Sun beats down on Us
- Much
more than the Stars
-
- Oh
the Hours get warm and then they melt
- Darkness
just gets very very svelte
- When
the Sun beats down on Us
- Much
more than the Stars
-
- Nighttime
is receding
- Where
it goes to I can't say
- Maybe
it's just feeding
- On
the Remnants of the Day
-
- Oh
the Sunlight's pouring down like Rain
- It's
a Habit but it's very strange
- When
the Sun beats down on Us
- Much
more than the Stars
- (Last
week I saw Mars!)
- Much
more than the Stars
- (They
look like small cigars!)
- Much much more than the Stars
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- ELEPHANTS
ARE FAR FROM STUPID
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-
-
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- Elephants
are far from stupid
- And
quite near being smart
- They're
living in the suburbs now
- And
shopping at K-Mart
- Many
are artistic
- And
quite a few play chess
- There's
one that lives near Hammersmith
- That
passed the Mensa test
- But
they're not always somber
- They
know how to have fun
- They're
grey, they're huge, they're wrinkled
- But - damn it - they are not dumb.
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- MY
MENSA HAREM
-
- Lydia is very smart
But she hides an ugly part
In her rough pine box called Cerebellum
Alice smells like cigarettes
But she fixed my red Corvette
And drove me in the pelting rain to Pelham
Stupid people cannot scare'em
They're my darling Mensa harem
Victoria's a little rude
As she sculpts another nude
Soon to grace the mausoleum MOMA
Betty looks a bit like sturgeon
But she's a credited day surgeon
And to think she does it best while in a coma
Stupid people cannot scare'em
They're my pretty Mensa harem
Love them all
Equally
I clean their stalls
Oh - weekily
I check for fleas and ants and floating bits of hay
I read their tests
So monumental!
Look at those breasts
They're so essential
To the general run of what I call "my play"
Stupid people cannot scare'em
They're my charming
So disarming
My sentimental
With tails prehensile
My intellectual
So erectual
PRETTY MENSA HAREM
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- I AM A
TOY SNOWFLAKE
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- I
am a toy snowflake
- (not the most popular)
- I
do little but fall
- Through
a toy sky
- (not the most popular}
- when
a key is wound
-
- you
can build a toy evening
- (not the most popular)
- against
which I can fall
- to
melt in the toy sun
-
(the most popular)
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- I'M
HAPPY WITH MY CHRISTMAS HAT
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- The neurotic embryonic
Made its bee-line for the gate
Seems it got a little panic
And couldn't wait to wait.
It came across a Boy Scout knife
And fell into the sea
Where it got sewn into gloves for Mom
And a Christmas hat for me!
I'm happy with my Christmas hat
As it talks to me in bed
And whispers of Pat Robertson
And how it misses Fred.
Fred's the name it gives you see
To the dog it never gotted
Because it felt against a blade
And all its futures clotted.
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- EXPLICATION OF “HAMLET”
FOR A LAZY STUDENT
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-
-
-
- Hamlet's
a schmoo.
- Ham
and eggs are a meal.
- Ophelia's
all wet.
-
- See, Hammy (that's what they start calling
him in Act XVI) has a Twinkie
- he
wants to give to Ophelia 2 (who is the clone of Ophelia 1), but she's hot
- for
Bartleby the scrivener (who's a guy who scrives), and Bartleby's got his
- plume
up for Daisy May Pantagruel, a liver donor from Canada.
So, you see
- the
scene is set for riotous fun. But first, Hammy has to get Mommy out of
- jail,
where she was sentenced for burning down Count Mulberry's plywood
- brothel
cum bowling alley. A titch of a crumbake,
that.
-
-
- In Act XXXII, Hammy 2 (the clone of Hammy
1) falls into the River Styx
- and
meets a cord of wood with lips called Theodolite. Theodolite tells
- Hammy
2 that Hammy 1 is gay, and must not marry Ophelia (1 or 2), so
- Hammy
2 returns to the greenhouse and grows himself an extra arm to hold
- a
broadsword and to read the instructions to his new video game
simultaneously.
-
-
- Meanwhile, Ophelia 1 has drowned in a strawberry
Big Gulp and left a note
- telling
Romeo and Juliet all about the two Hammys and the remaining Ophelia.
- Romeo
kills Juliet and moves in with the cord of wood with lips. Juliet gets
- boinked
by a falling star and gives birth to a flaming giraffe.
-
- THE END.
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-
- LAST NIGHT I WALKED BESIDE THE
TIBER
- a commune with the Potato of Terror
-
-
-
-
- Last
night I walked beside the Tiber
- Which
flows by ancient Rome
- And
dreamt a dream of aging tubers
- That
don't quite make a rhyme.
-
- They
circled in the Maximus
- Or
orated in the Forum
- About
the price of Taxi bus
- (Three
taters make a quorom)
-
- They
worshipped tarts and trifles
- And
wore earth-colored gowns
- Then
took their long spud rifles
- And
shot the Crispins down
-
- I
can't pretend to know their dreams
- Of
catacombs and loggia
- But
listen carefully to their screams
- Filtered
through their togas.
-
- Their
screams echoed into the night
- Like
"OOHHH" and "Dearie me!"
- The
Jolly Green Giant kept out of sight
- With
the Man from Del Monte
-
- The
pain, oh, the humanity
- As
Crispins they did fall
- The
tubers screamed profanity
- Too
lurid to recall.
-
- They
sawed their teddy bears in half
- And
stuck their heads on spikes
- And
hideously did they laugh
- On
their blade-wheeled motor bikes,
-
- With
death-heads sprayed upon their tanks
- Chrome
skulls and axe tattoos
- And
spiked maces with chains and shanks
- And
breath reeking of booze.
-
- The
Crispins turned the booze to water
- "What
a useless act," said Trent
- (He
was the father of the daughter
- Whose
favorite holiday was Lent)
-
- “I'd
rather vodka come from spigots
- A
fiery tater brew
- Or
maybe squeeze a fart from civets
- Or
fog from cockatoos."
-
- Afar
(Alas!) Athwart Ajar
- Beware
Be kind Becoming
- See
Caesar seizing a cigar
- Delovely
Degumming
-
- "E's
in the Coliseum, mate
- If
rumor's true (I doubt it)
- Gee!
Stand for God. Standard rate
- And
spackle now, or grout it."
-
- The
nesting dolls woke in the dark
- And
profound Vestal Vegans
- Found
a pal, a tine, a spark
- And
Crispins look like Fagins.
-
- "Take
me to your Leda please"
- The
swan was heard to snicker
- But
Crispins took a magic sneeze
- And
made Bosco out of Liquor.
-
- And
lo! The second time that day
- Sweet
liquor was profaned
- The
vegans' vests were blown away
- And
nothing pure remained
-
- Quentin
Crispin looked appalled
- And
minced out of the door
- His
sacred codpiece had been mauled
- On
a bad hair day, what's more
-
- When
twelve patatas bravas
- Arrayed
in chilli red
- In
sombreros and balaclavas
- Beat
him with pipes of lead
-
- Until
he cunningly dispersed
- Them
with a quiet emission -
- The
quiet ones are always worst,
- Akin
to nuclear fission.
-
- And
now about Rottini Square
- A
silence-like bazooka
- Beating
Muslins with its hair
- And
dancing a mad tampuka
-
- Or
diddling with the daily bread
- (Pieta!
Pity! Pita!)
- By
means of Quentin's head
- (Metor
Maidum Rita)
-
- A
pall has settled and paid its rent
- And
drinks its warm regatta
- From
plastic Holy Grails enscribed
- "From
Dada Drear und Matta"
-
- The
crucifix is just a fixture
- A
penny lamp from Woolworth's
- That
illuminates this molding picture
- Of
the Rooster and the Bull Nurse.
-
- The
cockatoos are mad to fog
- The
civil order of the civets
- Who
turned the water into hock
- And
Quentin's stuck with spigots.
-
- Soon
a big almighty hand
- Appears,
and does begin
- Writing
"mene mene" and words grand
- Like
"tekel upharsin"
-
- Quentin,
less safe than houses
- Stands
quaking in his boots
- Wishes
he'd worn brown trousers
- And
dyed his greying roots
-
- While
six divested concubines
- Dance
in circles lewd
- As
Balshazzar drinks buxom wines
- And
eats suggestive food.
-
- He
slowly peels bananas
- With
fingers bold and flighty
- Outraging
seers and llamas
- And
vexing the Almighty
-
- Rolls
his tongue round melons
- Nibbles
grape and date
- And
for potato felons
- He
reserves a ghastly fate.
-
- Yet
Tatertown is hushed and brown
- And
Nero not so nearby
- But
Gone to get his lyre down
- And
play a tune to sear by
-
- And
all about the cries rang out
- "Forgive
us, mea culpa!"
- Or
"Tally-ho!" or "Twist and Shout!"
- Or
"Quentin's got a crowbar!"
-
- The
Tiberiffic tubers dream
- Of
Kaisers rolls and mayo
- While
Caesar salads float downstream
- To
satiate Scott Baio.
-
- The
twilight of the earthly apple
- Seems
a sad affair
- Since
Jazzbo Crispin rode the dapple
- Into
the dopplered air
-
- His
voice retreating, shrinking still
- Until
it comes unpeeled
- And
drops like dandruff on the swill
- Of
Quentin's bedroom field
-
- "It
isn't that I turn my cheek
- Or
turn to face the music
- Or
turn my sword against the leek
- Or
leak into my tunic
-
- I
am not half as hard as ice
- Or
twice as frail as fritters
- But
more like ivory mixed with rice
- To
serve to placid critters."
-
- So
says he, and so say I
- And
turn into a saloon
- Which
turns into a mince pig pie
- Enscripted
with hog runes
-
- Which
read as thus (in dusky tone)
- "The
Crispins ate the Lions"
- And
Nero and Jazzbo both get stoned
- On
Quentin's scented crayons.
-
- "Look,
man" Chortles Nero
- "My
toes are flying away,
- And
your gut is pulsating
- In
a wibbly wobbly way"
-
- Jazzbo
rubs the colours
- Firmly
on his teeth
- He
can see his brothers
- And
their skeletons beneath
-
- The
mince pig pie is growing cold
- The
cabbage putrefying
- While
Nero stands, naked and bold
- To
watch his toes free-flying
-
- And
as Rome begins to burn
- He
grabs his violin
- And
does his famous party turn
- Wearing
only a glassy grin.
-
- The
flames that night were vaguely German
- Disciplined
und achtung!
- Dancing
to some Woody Herman
- Arranged
by Joey Bach’s son.
-
- All
night the fire consumed the slums
- And
daylight found it flickering
- Amongst
the piles of tater crumbs
- Who
(somehow) still were bickering.
-
- They
argued now of topping choices
- Sour
cream! Sweet butter! Violence!
- The
sunlight fell upon their voices
- And all the rest is silence.
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- LOVE'S ROUND ROBIN
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-
-
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- Romeo
loved Juliet
- Juliet
loved Harry
- Who
ran the butchers
- And
really liked Mary
- Who
fell hard for Elvis
- (Johnson
not Presley)
- Who
was partial to chocolate
- And
often got testy
- When
women would tickle
- His
drunken libido
- Which
only wanted Reeses
- And
a bag boy named Quido
- Who
yearned in his yearner
- For
a frozen chihuahua
- Covered
in salsa
- (Quido
was gaga)
- Which
dreamt of cabanas
- Far
off in Cancun
- Full
of tanned waiters
- Mincing
and hand-tuned
- Who
waited on weighty
- Women
from Waco
- Who
daydreamed of truckers
- Wishing
that they'd go
- Take
off their trousers
- And
make love to midgets
- (Perverse
but persistent
- Those
sun-wizened Gidgets)
- Who
want to be hugged
- By
carnival barkers
- And
bedded in feathers
- By
mad monks in parkas
- Who
(after this list
- Is
all said and done)
- Would
much prefer arsenic
- Washed down by Blue Nun.
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- IF THE SPHINX HAD A SPHINCTER
-
-
-
-
- If
the Sphinx had a sphincter
- Of
stone sunbaked and dry
- The
sessions "at toilet"
- Would
make Horus cry.
- A
grunting extrusion
- Of
crocodile turds
- But
hard as the heart
- And
rough beyond words.
- But
maybe (just maybe!)
- And
please hold your smile
- The
Sphinx has a sphincter
- The
Cheops its pile.
-
- The
Sphinx is half kitty
- And
the sand all about
- Absorbs
most of the odor
- Of
its sphinctorial grout
- But
if there be miasmas
- That
linger suppose
- That
probably accounts
- For
a great lack of nose
- On
the face of that mystery
- Somewhere
east of Ohio
- That
sat down to relief
- And shat out a Cairo.
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