my collapsing keyboard is more collapsable than your collapsing keyboard
hmmm, dunno what i'm talking about, i just dropt in to give up-to-the-minute update upon one of my more fun comments, but hmmm, maybe it's just lame, i mean me, trolling the Poetry forum for Flarf-haters? geez, is that indicitive of my complete loserdom, lack of actual life & nerdish yahoo macho mucking or what?
oh well, play whatya got like the pokerman sed: all aces are jokers unless suicide kings made a movie.
anyway, i couldn't resist this guy, i went a'huntin on th internetz to find a snippet of his verse to molest & i think it's kind of funny...hopefully he doesn't live near me or have a vindictive personality! = )
his original:
My Wife, My Dog and all the sharp objects in my kitchen
I don’t know a hell of a lot
My wife talks
Tells me everything I want to hear
And quite a few things I do not
My dog on the other hand
Never says a word
She just yells when it’s time to go out
She gets that from my wife
If I fall down
Drunk
Hurt
Dead
Or any other mayhem
I know my dog will be there
She does walk the walk
My wife on the other hand
Does the talk
And I believe everything
Why would anyone lie?
But . . .
My dog always looks at me with adoring eyes
And kisses and licks my face
My wife on the other hand
Likes to hold sharp things
And smile at me
She says it’s her hobby
I should just take a nap and forget it
I’m just curious as to why I feel so tired
My wife just made me three cups of her extra special espresso
I’d hate to think I’m paranoid
Can that be fixed?
.........& my parody:
my dog, my momma, my doorbell & all the dullest butterknives in the damned junkdrawer: hellfire shitspin & i wish, i wish i know'd somethin' but nothing ain't nothing & nothin' is that somethin' i always seem to have, at least my dog told me killer fart jokes, but then lick'd his gonads, the danglies wet by words, my momma, on the mother hand, talks like birthday & every dream done told on that bosom of heavenhigh hellishness, mayhem for mayhem mangled my brain maze thru wide eyed drunkeness & gurgling vomit in the grimey gutters of all my lost streetsigns, woke up by the tongue of my dog on slobbery alarmclock kissing gentle, talk to walk or walk to talk, there isn't anything to believe in except the fixing of fixtures, like a wry smile & blinkless wink, it's funny how it isn't funny, but by 'nd by it becomes just another naptime to snooze thru strophe or maybe gleam a shit-eating grin as i thrust the dullness of this flat butterknife across the paranoid texture of my halfbaked whitebread toast, can scrambled eggs be any better?
my hip stiffness
ReplyDeleteis hipper than
your hip stifness
my big dickish
is bigger than
your big dickish
my collapsing keyboard
is more collapsable than
your collapsing keyboard
hmmm, dunno what i'm talking about, i just dropt in to give up-to-the-minute update upon one of my more fun comments, but hmmm, maybe it's just lame, i mean me, trolling the Poetry forum for Flarf-haters? geez, is that indicitive of my complete loserdom, lack of actual life & nerdish yahoo macho mucking or what?
oh well, play whatya got like the pokerman sed: all aces are jokers unless suicide kings made a movie.
anyway, i couldn't resist this guy, i went a'huntin on th internetz to find a snippet of his verse to molest & i think it's kind of funny...hopefully he doesn't live near me or have a vindictive personality!
= )
his original:
My Wife, My Dog and all the sharp objects in my kitchen
I don’t know a hell of a lot
My wife talks
Tells me everything I want to hear
And quite a few things I do not
My dog on the other hand
Never says a word
She just yells when it’s time to go out
She gets that from my wife
If I fall down
Drunk
Hurt
Dead
Or any other mayhem
I know my dog will be there
She does walk the walk
My wife on the other hand
Does the talk
And I believe everything
Why would anyone lie?
But . . .
My dog always looks at me with adoring eyes
And kisses and licks my face
My wife on the other hand
Likes to hold sharp things
And smile at me
She says it’s her hobby
I should just take a nap and forget it
I’m just curious as to why I feel so tired
My wife just made me three cups of her extra special espresso
I’d hate to think I’m paranoid
Can that be fixed?
.........& my parody:
my dog, my momma, my doorbell & all the dullest butterknives in the damned junkdrawer:
hellfire shitspin & i wish,
i wish i know'd somethin'
but nothing ain't nothing
& nothin' is that somethin' i always seem to have,
at least
my dog told me killer fart jokes,
but then lick'd his gonads,
the danglies wet by words,
my momma, on the mother hand,
talks like birthday
& every dream done told
on that bosom of heavenhigh hellishness,
mayhem for mayhem
mangled my brain maze
thru wide eyed drunkeness
& gurgling vomit in the grimey gutters
of all my lost streetsigns,
woke up by the tongue of my dog
on slobbery alarmclock kissing gentle,
talk to walk
or walk to talk,
there isn't anything to believe in
except the fixing of fixtures,
like a wry smile & blinkless wink,
it's funny how it isn't funny,
but by 'nd by it becomes
just another naptime
to snooze thru strophe
or maybe gleam a shit-eating grin
as i thrust the dullness
of this flat butterknife
across the paranoid texture
of my halfbaked whitebread toast,
can scrambled eggs be any better?
here's the post over up @ Poetry Mag comments section!