The Spoonbill Generator

Shakespearean Temptation

Fourteen tubes of toothpaste mark my grave

My death stinch is hidden with after shave

Twenty four razors mark the spot

Of my Sacred burial plot.

A hirsute flower, born to shave unseen

Displays the final courage of the bean

Sprouted mounds of mortal man

A flash in the pan, flash in the pan.

Twice a day I floss my brain

Trying not to feel the pain

I wonder where the time has gone

And what will come of me anon

Cloak offenses with cunning brow

Contemplate my love for thou

Tombstones hide between gray days

Fodder for Bill Shakespeare's plays

that feature no hyaena cubs

or little angels we call "Chubs"

Tiny waifs that dance on Spam

That jelly meatloaf made of ham

That jolly midlife crisis time

when one can find no words that rhyme

I guess that I will make do with

Vinegar pie and swarms of pith.

Finnegan's Wake and shoals of shark

Mighty tribes of fish that bark

Unencumbered by my knees

Not unlike a swarm of bees.

Not unlike these wasps on heat

bunyons burning on their feet

Pilgrims who progress unseen

Reputed to be somewhat mean

Secret popes in droves abound

Their braces dangling to the ground

Shine like diamonds in the sun

Looking for the purest nun

Gloating at the blindworm's grave

Grubs and inches corpses shave,

Clippings from a dreamy film

Until the daylight's sun is dim.

Contributors: Peter, Stacy, Brandt Miller, Gretta, TG, Jane&Peter, Flash, Becky, Blod, Gizzy, Gary, Roland, Barry, Erica Kane, Kevin, Martin Clare, Jane, Tara, Rasta.
Poem finished: 10th December 1996.