In observance of Idea Of Progress Day, I present this poem.
O Craddily Pinchy O
Monk the Rainbow Snow
Ooks Said Rattly
The Cat On The Fence
54 Pigs To Go
We fruit bats Quickily Dock
For The Idea Of Progress To Knock
(The Day Is His
Whizzity whizz)
'N Sail down a chocolate rock
The whitest white bowl to clean
Has anyone seen my spleen
It went down the pipe
With all of me tripe
And the rocks that used to have been
7 comments:
Holy Jabberwocky! You msut have been channeling Lewis Carrol when you wrote that.
Those sound like lyrics to a Syd Barrett tune from his asylum days.
thanks, good doctor!
chris, great, now I have got that song "Maisie" stuck in my head. "bad luck, bride of a bull..."
This puts Shelley and Keats to shame.
I'm not educated enough about poetry to say whose work that resembles, but I think there was just enough onomatopoeia that I have have to go pee now.
Boy, the crazy shit I miss when the computer is turned off.
mr. of progress, Shame! Shame on the corpses of Shelley and Keats! Bwahahaha!
freida b, I made you pee (I can't stop rhyming, I am need of forgiving) [AGH!]
randal g, and the poem was written with my own blood, too.
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