Sunday 2 August 2009


bomb bee zorro story boring
butt lamping hip stiffness

1 comment:

  1. my hip stiffness
    is 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




    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!



If you think you think you should heed the warning of your mother and sister and not risk uncertain sorcery,turn to page 25


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