Whipped Blood Pudding Regrets
I never met a sailor who could sing
As sweetly, of my gangplank, as Teresa
I never saw a dove without a wing,
That didn't merit treatment from my razor.
I never heard a poem without a reason,
Which didn't make me gag like biting a rancid raisin.
When'ere raisins rancid in the season?
Our mutual understanding is amazing.
I never met a flower that could dance,
As nimply, on my gangplank, as Louisa
I never saw a man without a mouth.
...who didn't promise romance.
I never found a poem writ by Caesar
That didn't beg for treatment from my tweezer
When 'ere tweezers wetter than thy poem?
Our Omaha recollection is of hazing!
I never met a song that didn't sing,
As softly, to my gangplank, as Alicia
I never soar aloft on leaden wing
When unleaded gas makes me feel like Mona Lisa
I never met the gal that ate petunias,
Or stole the Senior title from the Juniors
Who stole in turn from Jack or Ebenezer
Whose name was otherwise known as "Weezer",
I never sang, or danced, or soared, myself
Until I met my friend, Lucretia,
We tumbled, arm-in-arm, from every shelf
Unleaded gas became my anesthesia.
(Which, I must say, beats euthanasia!)
(Suicides are getting daily lazier!)
News and combat grow forever crazier!
Excerpts from "The Life of Anastasia"
Contributors: | TG, Loaf, Stacy, Roland, Kent, Zsa, Nancee, Bop, Stacy Alexander. |
Poem finished: | 26th January 1997. |