Poetry Prose Anything goes

Saturday, December 13, 2008

You Know What Burns My Ass

You know what burns my ass when I say that coffee causes hemorrhoids. You are there all day in the Chinese Canadian cafe waiting to meet a friend to talk to about dick-all really, reading yesterday's paper, discovering innovative ways of getting a tacky piece of nose-pick off your finger, sitting on non-breathing vinyl, drinking weak coffee by the gallon, eating all day breakfast all day, building up acid gas pressure, and, well, something has gotta give and usually it's the inner wall of your ass. And there is no side effect warning on the side of the cup that says drinking coffee and sitting on vinyl for eight hours will cause hemorrhoids to swell and swell and transform until an ostrich grows out of your ass and the Chinese Canadian waitress lady will mock you saying, "You want seeds for your ostrich, that extra, too". And then the very unkind burn of, "Ostrich like you, only you bury your head in booth (laugh, laugh, laugh). More coffee as life pass you by, Mr. Zookeeper?"
Then you must think about the ying-yang of thoughts coming out the ying-yang. Suppose an ostrich can run 30 mph and carry a man on its back. But also suppose that a giant bird, pecking your head and poking in and out and in and out of your asshole all day long, making it necessary to re-wipe your punched out asshole every half-hour, is bothersome; and would you ride your ass-parts in public or compete in an ass-parts race across the desert; and would you name your ostrich after yourself - that would be 'Vein'. And, golly, coffee is good for stimulating thoughts, but do you want to put up with a flightless bird in your ass big enough to kick the shit out of you no matter how helpful that may be. Sure, thoughts are your life, but thoughts can only take you so far, but an ostrich, that is something else to consider especially with the price of gas soaring. Perhaps something should be done. Perhaps, they should heat the vinyl seats. Perhaps when the bill comes, alongside the mint and toothpick is a suppository. Or at the very least come up with a coffee that does not result in such large eggs.

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

NY Giants vs Washington Redskins

NFL Sunday November 30, 2008 ... NY Giants vs Washington Redskins ... Today the Washington Redskins and their fans, in a heart-felt tribute, honoured the memory of #21 Sean Taylor who was shot dead in his home in Miami last year. Oddly, NY Giants player #17 Plaxeco Burress, who was not scheduled to play today due to a hamstring injury, shot himself in the thigh with a unlicensed gun on Saturday while at a nightclub. Today, it is not understood how Burress' criminal act honours Sean Taylor's memory. Today, it is not understood if Burress had been able to attend Taylor's induction into the Redskin's Ring of Honor, would Burress have reflected on the fact he had jeopordized the safety of others by having a gun. What remains, today, is that Burress is fortunate to be alive to come to the conclusion he cheapened Taylor's memory by not respecting how Taylor died.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Plenty of Horn (revised)

Did you hear about the MacKenzie girl? Heather, the oldest, blond, pleasant, rather big bum? You know that after graduating from Springer last year, she went to Africa to work with World Youth for Raising Awareness. I told you that. Well, just before she was to return last month, she went on safari with her Uncle Ron. You know Ron Harris, cultural attache to the Romanian Consulate in Spain, drinks, when he exhales, his nose whistles. Anyway, I have some bad news. It seems little Heather, while taking pictures, wandered away from the safari group, wearing an iPod thing, a lone white female out on the African plain, big bum, and a rogue Rhino charged up behind and ravaged her. It was a nasty shock. She said the worst part was she didn't see it coming. Fortunately, Ron did. Caught it on all video. Practically buckets of the stuff. Amazing. Talk about your dry hump. It ends up those leather skinned rhinos have poor vision and are highly excitable so most of it ends up in her hair. It's on the Youtube. What would we do without technology? You know Ron's a terrible sketch artist. His strong suit is sunsets. Rhinos ............... Anyway, poor darling Heather is home for the season recovering. Visit, just don't ask if she had a good time in Africa and for Christ's sake don't ask if she saw any wild animals. Bit of a sore spot with her still.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Ode-d'ur (Rough Cut)

Ah, Hell, I remember it all too well.
It has a fishy smell,
You've heard this before
And you know there's more
No soap will wash away,
Its redolent bouquet
Attending to her charms
As I hold her in my arms
She asks me to think of love
And consider her my little dove
I panic and try to run
But the smell of which I make fun
Fills my nose, transforms my thought
I soon forget what I fraught
So when she asks to reply
'Do you love me 'til I die?
I stammer 'I am yours forever'
Because Hell is very clever
Instead of seeing it as a trap
And recall I am such a sap
Its odour defeats my weak will
(You'd think the smell'd make you ill
Yet I ponder, Is that krill or oyster grill?)
And then though crazed I hold her longer
Encourage the smell to grow stronger
Instead of heeding danger
And this is even stranger
I adjust my hold and then I dare
To go and slide my finger there

'As dreams are made on, and our little life',
Since the dawn, it has caused man strife,
Below the mountains, in the valley
Sometimes mossy, sometimes shorn
Oddly, it's where a baby's born
It has many names
One's not James,
If I may be blunt,
And be up front,
Today those in the know
Call it a camel toe.

The rest is all blah, blah, blah
And then there is the la-de-dah
She entices me to go til I am drained
The quicker finished the less the strain
A thought flits 'cross my mind
I think I may be in a bind
I feel a foreboding
My mind is unloading
Something about a promise to be hers
Oh, my vision blurs
My being, it demurs
I'm slipping into the abyss
This is post-coital bliss
She says I really mattered
Really I feel flattered
Any mention of a dread
And she will turn in the bed
And her words will interrupt me
From my dreams of the perfect peace
My deep, deep, sleep.