Saturday, March 10, 2007


I got a call from my good friend NORTON!
Who discussed the way the winter is shorten (-ed)
Here in the brightly-lit sunshine state
And he had a point he wanted to reiterate.

“you know how I now live here in upper New York,
And at this time of year my truck tires use torque
As I attempt to drive in the deep, deep snow
From my place of work and back to my lovely chateau,

“and though it will be weeks before this snow will melt,
And you don’t GET snow there south of the Bible Belt,
This weekend it’s supposed to be fifty degrees--
At least as far as the weatherman forsees--

“And I want to point out a little thought I just thunk
One that lifted me out of my wintery funk:
When it’s 50 down THERE, you all put on a jacket
While when it’s 50 up HERE we grab the badminton racquet

“And we rush on outdoors into the day bright and shiny,
And we lay in the grass and sit on our hiney
And we pound the neighbour’s door and hammer door knockers
‘cuz it’s warm enough to run ‘round in our knickerbockers!

“So while it may be grand down there in the Florida heat
I find my life up here just perfectly complete.
I’d think myself crazy, and devoid of all reason
If I lived in a place that had only one season!

I like the fall when it turns orange, brown and yellow,
And I like the spring when the ground is mushy as Jell-O.
Of course I like summer, of that you don’t need to be told,
But I should remind you that some of us actually LIKE the cold.

I love to go skiing with long boards on my feet
Zipping down frozen mountains just can’t be beat!
I like to build snowmen and throw hardpack snowballs
And I like to sit by the fire with a copy of McCall’s!*

Of course there’s blizzards and possible frostbite
And sometimes we go seven weeks without sunlight
But at least we don’t get massive hurricanes
And heat that’s so hot it melts down your brains

And our insects are small and not of the size
Where a swarm of them will block out the skies
and fly in your mouth making you wheeze and cough
(and some are so big they could carry small children off!)

I’m not near an ocean where they hang up a purple flag
To warn of “dangerous sea life” that can put’cha in a body bag
After wading through the tall green sea grass
And a jellyfish swims up to sting you on the… foot.

No, I’m miles away from that bright world of Disney
And those other 2 parks owned by a beer company
But I’m doin’ just fine, I do swear,
It’ll be 50, and I’ll be in my underwear.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Haiku for a bad day...

Fuck it
I can't be bothered
to count syllables

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Dorks Riff And You Have Walt Whitman To Thank For It

A transcription of an IM conversation from this morning NOT edited for spelling, grammar etc.

Flannery: How you doin'?

Big Orange: 咻~~~(一陣冷風吹過,好冷喔~~)

Big Orange: 啊~~~那會怎樣(台語)!

Big Orange: how you?

Flannery: so far so good

Big Orange: actually, yes.

Big Orange: I love Dr. [name withheld]

Big Orange: no swelling, no pain

Flannery: cool

Big Orange: didn't even FEEL anything during the operation thanx to the IV valium!!

Flannery: awesome

Big Orange: oh, and old tech is still good tech.

Big Orange: that is, an old fashioned ice bag is a wonderful thang.

Big Orange: and a helluva lot cheaper than those chemical ice packs.

Big Orange: hehehehe///

Flannery: true

Big Orange: I woke up with a half poem in my head.

Big Orange: I'm trying to see if I can write it.... wanna see what I have so far?

Flannery: sure

Big Orange: Come gather ‘round, pull up a chair, and listen my friends

To a tale about my most recent event

a happening that made my heart most content,

the cutting of my vas deferens.

Flannery: oh, jesus

Big Orange: I thought I'd try covering ALL the blogs...

Big Orange: so you like it so far??

Big Orange: I'll work on it.

Big Orange: can I send it to you for editing??

Flannery: I feel like I've been listening to a reality show about your vasectomy!!!

Big Orange: yup!

Big Orange: you get the play-by-play AND the colour commentary!

Big Orange: hehehehehehe!!

Big Orange: I told Doc a lil' bit about it and he thinks there is much material to be mined therewithin.

Flannery: I think I could do my phd on the subject; my knowledge is so intimate

Big Orange: ESPEICIALLY when I told him that the MD's office was an old HOUSE

Big Orange: AND that four old, old guys were milling around the porch and coming outside, all walkin' reaaal funny and bent over.

Flannery: I'm done picturing your balls and the workings therein

Big Orange: one old motherfucker could barely walk-- like he'd been repeatedly KICKED in the balls-- and was wearing an eyepatch!

Flannery: well, you are in the south

Big Orange: I seriously thought about chickening out for a moment there.

Big Orange: well, yeah....

Flannery: well, you are a big chicken

Big Orange: that's troo...

Big Orange: remember the surgery in "Batman" where the Joker got patched up??

Flannery: not really

Big Orange: well, there we go.

Flannery: why don't you ask Doc to edit your poem?

Big Orange: hehehehe.

Big Orange: OK.

Flannery: let me know when you are moved to write about flowers...or ovaries

Big Orange: anyway, valium is wonderful.

Flannery: word

Big Orange: I could write about ovaries.

Big Orange: there's a new sterilzation process for wimmin-folken that doens't involve surgery.

Big Orange: is that interesting to you?

Flannery: nope

Flannery: oh, wardrobes?

Big Orange: no... falopian tube implants

Big Orange: you wanted to know when I was moved to write about ovaries, but when I ask if you're interested, you say nope.

Flannery: do i contradict myself? then i contradict myself! I am vast; I contain multitudes

Big Orange: you know, a whorehouse would contain multidudes....

Flannery: a food court contains multifoods

Big Orange: a naturist camp contains multinudes...

Flannery: a bi-polar person contains multimoods

Big Orange: a college frat house on keg night contains multispeweds

Big Orange: aaaand Christian churches at Lent will contain....

Big Orange: uh....

Big Orange: multiescheweds

Flannery: a vegas wedding chapel might contain multiwooeds

Big Orange: a mass jail break would might produce multieludes....

Flannery: A model-maker would collect multiglueds

Big Orange: back to the whorehouse: MULTISCREWEDS!!

Big Orange: a hair salon: MULTISHAMPOOEDS!!

Big Orange: an orthodox Jewish Synagogue: MULTISNOODS!!

Big Orange: a Hollywood movie set: MULTICUED!!

Big Orange: a room full of pathological liars: MULTIDELUDES!!

Flannery: a bad movie: multibooeds

Big Orange: a thorazine clinic: MULTISUBDUEDS

Flannery: hee!

Flannery: a house with many fireplaces: multiflued

Flannery: many flashers: multilewds

Big Orange: a whole collection of carnival sideshow barkers in the same room....

Big Orange: ::ahem::


Big Orange: back to the prison break: MULTIPERSUED!!

Big Orange: a dozen soup kitchen cooks would be MULTISTEWED

Big Orange: so would a roomful of drunks...

Big Orange: ah! 25 cubist painters in the same room: MULTISKEWED!!

Big Orange: how did we overlook the lawfirm: MULTISUED!!

Big Orange: or a quadrouple rainbow: MULTIHUED!!

Big Orange: a middle school: MULTIATTIDUDE!

Big Orange: an outdoors/watersports sports store: MULTICANOED!!

Big Orange: a pig farm manure pit: MULTIPOOED!

Big Orange: same thing with a Disney Store....


Flannery: hee!

Flannery: or many cagey people: multialludes

Flannery: or saturday mornings; multicartooned

Flannery: racetraces: multivroooms

Big Orange: hehehehehe!!

Flannery: or ren-faire people: multipantalooned

Flannery: or shipwreck survivors: multimarooned

And then Big Orange had to lie down.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

If I Could Be Anywhere

I'd jump into my calendar's panoramic photo
Of the Ménara Pavillion.
I would make my way to the edge of the balcony
Of the sandstone structure
On the edge of a square-acre pool
In Marakech.

The hem of my turquoise linen gandora
Will graze around my bare feet
As the warm breeze plays with my hair
And melts the frost of winter away
From my heart, my bones, my blood
In Marakech.

My eyes drink in the blues and purples of the sky and water
The incongruity of palm trees and pine
My toes soak up the heat of the stones
As I descend the stairs to dip them
In the mountain's waters
Of Marakech.

I'll learn the language
And use my tongue to
Speak and taste
Foriegn things
And bend my neck to listen close
In Marakech.

For now I keep my back to the window
And the brutality of winter
I Swallow pride
I Feign interest
I daydream
Of Marakech


I've not written a poem
in 8 1/2 weeks.

that's not like me.

I should correct that...

...Oh, maybe I have.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Pitiful Poetry, Part 1

Higgledee Piggledee, pudding in pie,

I've got nuclear waste in my eye!

Since I became a spy,

I'm lucky to be alive.

'Cause Putin's been endlessly plotting my demise!


Higgledee Piggledee, pudding in pie,

I've got a new law I'd like to decry

No child left behind

Is wasting my time

All the extra paperwork is making me blind!


Higgledee Piggledee, pudding in pie

Justin Timberlake is one spicey guy!

He's made a new flick

That heats me up quick

But the plot is really ridiculous! It's a story that I would never watch under other circumstances, like, say, it starred someone else, like, I don't know, maybe Mel Gibson.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007


Some folks say limerick writing's a crime.

Or at best, a complete waste of one's time.

Though they're sometimes amusing,

often vile, or confusing.

They're the oldest known examples of rhyme.

Red Green once said, "Poems don't have to rhyme and they don't have to be dirty, but people seem to prefer them that way." I agree. So without further ado, here's some limericks.

There was a young lady from Cue,

Who filled her vagina with glue.

She said with a grin,

"If they will pay to get in,

They'll pay to get out of it too."


There was a young girl named Maxine,

Who found a new use for the bean.

As a vaginal bearing,

She found it long wearing,

And it varied her f*cking routine.


The prior of Dunstan St. Just,

Consumed with erotical lust,

Raped the Bishop's prize fowls,

Buggered four startled owls,

And a little green lizard, that bust.


Oh, pity the Duchess of Kent!

Her c*nt was so dreadfully bent,

The poor wench doth stammer,

"I need a sledgehammer

To pound a man into my vent."


A broken-own harlot named Tupps

Was heard to confess in her cups:

"The height of my folly

Was f*cking a collie-

But I got a nice price for the pups."