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I Can Write A Wrong, But I Can't Right A Poem (Other) by horus8

By Vagina, The Three Legged Pigeon AN OPERA in G SHARP [A clearly upset monk enters stage 'the left'] [He begins to sing, poorly, and way out of key] "Oh God... Look what I've done!? OH GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE? I have missed my objective, and smashed my poor penis beyond repair. but I did not care!!!" [Chorus line led by a deaf girl in plaid with triangle] "What has he done? [ding] What did he do? [ding] He spent his days He spent his nights Raised in a shoe! What could he do? [ding] What did he do? [ding] He loves the drink The necklaced pearls What will he do? [ding] [A lovely maiden enters stage 'the right'] [She's confident, and only the mighty merciful lord knows 'the why'] "He is a monk (she sings) He's on God's side He will love god 'efore me & shun MY VAGINA? And so he swears over a helmet shaped cock! He tends to the flock." [Chorus comes back in, and this time the lead deaf girl is sleeping, and a magical chirping flagella is there in her 'stead. Wow a talking flagella, queer... Yet interesting and different?] "They will not be together He is gay" [Chorus] "He is gay?" [Flagella] "His father did not love him so they say!" [Chorus] "Do they say?" [Flagella] "His brain can fry eggs He always keeps his legs, but his pussy will not let him carry kegs" [Chorus] "NOT THE KEGS!?" [Flagella] -- It is true! [Chorus] -- It is a lie! --IT IS TRUE Dammit! --It is a lie (Almost a whisper) --True! --Lie! --TRUE! --LIE! --DIE! --DIE! --DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! (An ugly ice duckling sculpture explodes in the foyer) [a bag of cemented limbs and parts falls from 'an' sky] [Smashing the monk and maiden before they can conjewgate their visit at the mountain monastery] [Chorus] No please don't die! [Flagella] Too late he's dead! -- He's dead? -- HE'S DEAD! WILL YOU SHUT UP AND STOP SINGING?! --BUT WE MUST SING? --OKAY DO IT OVER THERE... [The director, writer, lead gaffer  &(Charles The Thirdly, Executive Prod.) Talk the morbid scene out two feet away from one another, but with state of the art walkie talkies] "What the fuck" Says Chuck. "This is like two rehearsals in a row?" He finishes... "Quit killing the hopefuls?" [The Director responds with clicks and grunts] "Duahhhh ahh okay Mr. Goldsteinslickerman I'll remember to wait for the appropriate signal next time you flash me ahhh duahh your l33t tattoo codename 'Rosedud' Then I let 'er fly! ahhhhh dewahhh." Hiccup toot...Nose pick, fluff... Opera. No soap here THE END. P.s The magical flute is the FreeMason's equivalent of 'Like a virgin' and the Who's "We Won't be fooled again". But then, you are.

Bachus 17-Dec-02/1:45 AM
what about when you played in the fountain with the boys at summercamp? or all of those times you checked for freshness with your fingers in the shower, also my son's godmother is 41..so your point? maybe she should be 61, or perhaps 11? my hands hate cement, but i do know how to pour a doric column in the winter with no mixer, no truck..and two mexicans named paco, and flaco..also i didn't know high school diplomas came with poetry licenses?, and some of us have to dumb it down to deal with stalkers more appropriately, so that they get the point. don't you ever play with your wife and kids? good.so, why don't you leave mine alone? because, without them you have absolutely nothing to stand on. zip. zippy. nada.go spend some quality time with your family ward cleaver. you are horribly out gunned and strategically speaking, ill equipped.




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