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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.

poetandknowit 17-Dec-02/5:43 PM
I have no idea what you are talking about because I have no idea who you are. One minute you say everything I know up until this pint is a fiction and then you say I shit all over friends and family as a propaganda campaign against your poetry. Huh? Which is it? Are you straight up or straight down? When Z told me you were really in the Brig I apologized, but see, then you come back and say something different. I do not create personas. I am just myself. As far as the poems, well I believe I have said both positive and negative things about your work. Minus, of course, the works under Bacchus. You have been paranoid in the past over this issue. I did not get it then and I do not get it now. Now, last night I said things about your work, but you were threatening me with bravado so I was trying to keep poetry in the conversation. Up until that point if you go back and look at comments relating to your work I have tried to be constructive there. The fact that I even pay attention to you was a sign of respect and you should have known this. I can posture with the best of them because it is all a game to me. If you say stop I will stop, if not, I tend to go to the mattresses. God may just grant that wish, you never know.




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