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Tales From The Outhouse (Lyric) by -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. Once more against our lower'd breeches,
The Outhouse shows its mettle.
Fearing not our plumpen'd peaches,
Tho 'gainst its hide they settle.
Where stainèd flesh meets wooden shack;
The two entwined in shame.
And ever black
'neath straining crack:
The Outhouse is its name.
Perched upon a reeking pit,
Secluded, and alone.
'til such a time as we see fit
To grace its lowly throne.
Our wails bestain the swollen night,
Beset in wooden frame.
Where falling shite
Betrays our plight:
The Outhouse is its name.
Coilings plummet unto earth
And wallow in the sand,
As buttocks spend their shilling's worth
Upon the lacquered land.
And tho' our bow'ls be filled with sin,
'tis better that we aim
With filthy grin,
Into the bin:
The Outhouse is its name.
Beastly howls! What hell hath come!?
Who toils 'pon midnight's bell!?
'tis only Father Blunderbum
Who isn't feeling well.
As preacher duels in tug-of-war
He plays a deadly game -
With thund'rous roar,
Falls through the floor:
The Outhouse was its name.
Up the ladder:
Mannequin (draft)
Down the ladder:
3 distinctively different attempts remembering one thing
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.230769
Posted: January 31, 2004 5:51 PM PST; Last modified: February 1, 2004 4:05 AM PSTWeighted score: 6.222532 Overall Rank: 953 The following users have marked this poem on their favorites list:
Comments:
[n/a]
dmzoacan @ 68.9.128.195
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31-Jan-04/6:01 PM
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Reply
lol you said Settle
astounding in it's perfection. An IQ of 98, you say? By god you use every point to great effect.
Brilliant.
Anyone voting less than an *almighty* TEN - is an ass - and I mean that, else God take my eyes.
The best poem ever, proving what I've said almost all along DA is the bestestesses.
Congratulations - judging from the response here, I'd say you're turning legitimate. Legitimacy's a terrible burden, I've heard. It did awful things to Tennyson.
If you don't mind my saying, you might do something to celebrate your new laureate position on the ranker - like ordering that all further posts here be husk-oriented or finishing the AIDS trilogy on a spectacularly offensive note. An aspiring naughty poete can't afford to lose his street-credibility. Or, if you wish, I'm willing to multiple-zero you or leave hideous garbled comments about feelings on your poems. I don't know - I haven't been here long, but it already seems like the passing of an age when no one will zero you, even out of spite. Where's CLS? That said, this is hardly your best post. Father Blunderbum is introduced way too late - I have no sense of who he IS. What makes him RUN? And it's really only one TALE from the outhouse, right?
What about this poeme makes you think of legitimacy? The subject matter is the same as always: the moving of bow'ls. The style is the same as always: absurdly melodramatic and ineptly archaic. The comments are the same as always: a mixture of derision, indifference and utterly inappropriate ecstasy. Frankly, Sir, I am appalled that you would even entertain the idea that this piece marks a change in the poetic career of -=Dark_Angel==-.
To address your further comments: 1. The 'AIDS' trilogy was completed many years ago, in the form of 'AIDS Bonanza!' 2. While it might be true that my poemes are no longer anonymously zeroed to the extent they once were, this is a direct result of the decreased number of angry teenagers on Poemeranker recently. crystal lane swift is too busy voting on her own poemes to zero mine. 3. The Tales referred to are the telling brown songs of adventure and sorrow that ev'ry man must daily sing.
I meant the response to the poem smacks of legitimacy. Even Rockmage gave it a ten immediately after being trounced by a -=Dark_Angel=- in a great poem that was unfortunately quickly deleted (but seen by him, no doubt.) And he's been intentionally giving lower scores lately. I don't agree that there are fewer angry teenagers online, but it seems they're afraid to touch you (either of you). You should have at least been able to count on PariahDog and NanceXToo for some good credibility-establishing 4s. -
- I missed 'AIDS Bonanza!' when I was reading your old posts, but I liked the other two. I dare say, no one writes AIDS like that. As far as the disputed 'Tales' goes, I'm willing to concede your points. The poem does indeed exude an aroma of the overarching and folkloric that hints of many tales untold or to come.
Rockmage actually voted a -6- on this piece, immediately after he read the Terrible Ode To Rockmage. Then - following Shuushin's comment - he promptly changed his vote to a -10-. I deleted the original rockmage poeme because I felt it didn't do justice to the overwhelming feelings of hatred I have for him.
you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter you poor critter Too have so much love for me and to have it unrequited. Such suffering.
Ungh...
Wasn't it long enough?
spoken like a true sufferer of Inadequate Beard Syndrome
And I was afraid you wouldn't understand. Silly Me!
I did not see your tribute to me. I feel left out in the cold. I shiver. I moan. I saw one many moons ago by tomcheese and there is one each by baba yaga and stephen robins.
I read everything -=Dark_Angel=- writes on this site as a tribute to you, rockmage; just as everything you post is a tribute to him. You are yen and yang, linked by more than just the length of your beards. I prophecy that each of you will fulfill the other's destiny in some startling and grotesque fashion.
Fascinating. I like that. I never had a destiny before. This one I get in triplicate. I feel special.
A ha ha ha
The sycophantic slags all say i new him first and i knew him well
Crap -0-
One day, perhaps not today, perhaps not e'en tomorrow, but one day, one lonely day, when the precious oils of youth have sadly slicked themselves from your once glistening hide, on that absurdly dry day, that day of humiliating de-balmilisation, you'll come to regret that remark, richa. By God Sir there'll be hell to pay if you don't!!!!11
I take it you did not like my picture of a floating poo then?
You are so fucking brilliant
'...Laquered land...' '...Lowly throne...' '...Entwined in shame...' I wish I had your talent for words. Who the hell are you? it's been a pleasure, sincerely, your the tops.
A ha ha ha
The sycophantic slags all say i new him first and i knew him well
Speaking of Tales from the Outhouse, here is a horrifying one.
1900 hrs: I drained and consumed an entire diplomatic pouch of Sainsbury's Mozzarella Cheese. 2000 hrs: I began breaking wind. 2030 hrs: I noticed that the wind was significantly more foul than a normal farte, and that I was accumulating a full gas chamber at least every ten minutes. 2130 hrs: I realised that I had never before released such an inconceivably disgusting and protracted series of nauseous, sweaty, cheesy fartes in my entire life. If anyone else had been trapped in the room with me, they would have been pounding on the door and crying and pleading to be let out. I opened my window as far as it would go, to not much effect. 2200 hrs: The Browne Winds continued to blow ever more fiercely. I realised I was almost certainly permanently staining my jodhpurs, and quickly stripped to long-johns and cummerbund. The side effect was that each increasingly sickening fart was released instantly into the atmosphere instead of being caught in the ventilation chamber of my jodhpurs, and I was therefore assaulted tenfold by the awesome concentrated force of each new breaking. 2300 hrs: The length, frequency and punguency of the emissions continued to sail from strength to strength, with no end in sight. Despite my inbuilt resistance to the smell of my own gas, the stench had become quite unbearable, and my eyes were watering. I retired to the bathroom where there was a ventilation fan and hoped for respite. 2315: Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. As anyone familiar with Boyle's law knows, the size of the room in which one fartes is inversely proportional to the mind-blowing intensity of the rectal outburst when it happens. With the pressure in my abdomen suddenly growing, I had no choice but to hold on to the towel rail, steel myself and to Jesu pray, though well I knew that He was why the Browne Winds blew. 23:20: Armageddon. 23:30: I stagger back to my desk, a broken, reamed husk of a man. Whether I will ever recover physically or morally is unknowable. My poor brave jodhpurs, upon inspection, have a colossal browne crater in the gusset; they will have to be put to sleep. The lingering stench of immoderation continues to taunt me from all corners of the room. The one thing I have to be grateful for is that I myself seem to have ridden out the storm. But -- but what's this? My bowels seem to be filling at an unthinkable rate! Good God, what if this were to escape? No -- no -- for the love of mankind, I must hold it in! I -- I can do it. I can hold i
Color me stunned!
You certainly are the crispiest chip in the bag. Too bad it's a colostomy bag.
Hole-ee frickin Lord - you are easily the funniest [emotional and perhaps otherwise] cripple I have come across (here, use this handi-wipe).
This is cute..okay, there's some humor. Which merits it a 5. I wouldn't do more because frankly the subject matter is just utterly ridiculous. Get on your soapbox now...I can already tell you're the type :-)
(I can't believe everyone gave this a 10)
You're a very ill-mannered young lady. Now... is the door closed? A ha. I'm going to show you something that you may not like.
Hmm, are you honestly oblivious to the skill & dexterity with language that is shown here? Go on, show me four stanzas of yours that that are this well constructed.
Aber es ist mir nichts neu, that you read in vain and cannot appreciate the classique nature of this pome. Oh, and one other thing -- it's fuckin' funny.
darkangel..okay that soapbox comment was a bit out of line. I said it cuz i figured you'd get all pissy about my 'utterly ridiculous' comment (which i still have to stand by, sorry, lol). That assumption was based on the whole 'i hate you i hate you i hate you' thing i got from you my first time here because you didn't agree with a suggestion I made to someone else. Figured i'd get something similar here :D But I apologize, i'll keep it to the poetry.
Lasto..hmm...um, yeah, I believe I did acknowledge that it was humorous. I just couldn't take it seriously enough. Way to stand up for the regulars though. You're doing great.
no, I'm not standing up for the regulars. Nobody needs to stand up for DA, he's like a fucking descendant of Oscar Wilde. I'm pointing out that there is a tremendous amount of skill with language demonstrated here that you, or I, or most would find difficult to equal irregardless of whether we were writing about logs of shit or the frangible beauty of first love in springtime in Paris.
Oh, and just for the fuck of it I was also amusing myself by embedding the name of the form of this pome (it does have a name) in my comment.
of course, now I see that it was from a different isp..are there two dark angel's? If so, my bad. I apologize even more. :D
what do you mean by 'form'? and what is its name?
yes, your rhyming scheme has a name! Though I'm not sure if the rhythm scheme is also encompassed by that name.
You'll have to dig out the name from my comment yourself :P
D_A, a descendant of Oscar Wilde?!!!!
How the hell did that happen, alert joe-joe. P.s I presumed you meant ascendant.
A ha ha ha
The sycophantic slags all say i new him first and i knew him well
well dun, sir! i'd have to be a naiv uen to miss the beauty of that remark!
LOL!
-5-
Dear, oh dear, oh dear, John K. Look what has become of you, my lad. Shamed to the point of lunacy by your own work, you have taken to lashing out at my beautiful poemes, staining them again and again with your absurdly malicious embalmings. This is the third oiling you have smear'd upon this piece, and I daresay it will not be the last. Will this tantrum ne'er end?
I like this a lot -10-
this by far is the funniest page i have read on this site....yet. priceless.
and i didnt even read the poem
i feel...embrowned.
excellent fun, this.
If I could I would vote this 10 thrice over, once for the poeme, once for the timeline comment, and once for making me laugh until Mount Brownesuvius threatened to blow.
Armageddon! 629 view(s)
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