A game and two poems
The following two poems were composed collectively by Ferret and his friends during a rained-out beach holiday. With little to do and a penchant for poetry, Ferret and his compatriots each wrote 1 1/2 lines of verse on a piece of paper, folded the paper over to hide the first line and passed it along. These are the results:
No One was Harmed in the Making of this Poem
Our tale begins in the steamy depths of a Turkish bath,
In his opening gambit, he figured the math was in his hardened heart
And it moved him to tears to see in that room
An unborn boy, smoking, riddled with gloom
Throat gargle tea milk, wormed silk tissues fettered
With darting, shaved sparrows’ victory tune,
The teething assassins beat a retreat with
The bonny boy who took the alien spawn in hand
And sent it off to Neverland to choke several whores
A fantastic tale! Told by drunkards and bores
The bell summons ladies of the night
And the Jesus whores.
They left by the side door, upon a frond of
Memories shorn into a cake which the alien pulled
Into its heart pumping black blood, churning with the sound of
A thousand crying babes aching on the inside
Got trampled in an orgy, and half of them died.
Oh wale! Oh woe! The dead victims’ mothers cried.
“When shall we meet on the dwarf toss slide?”
Said the cowgirls. The plasma night pushed
Against the Amazon fence the green, bug-eyed
Extraterrestrial spat its venom, turning the surrounding crowds sick
Making the mothers run for the doors, their heavy legs
Unshaven, moist, almost goat-like pegs
An ode to my spindle legs, a crash of smut and
Belly pork dregs brings footfall celebratory smacks,
Lying, lying the shaker stood down.
***
From the Cuff
What will you recall, and what will you forget?
What in one’s mind is gone, you can’t regret.
Note the shallow fucks or bad stares, not the lost retreats
Or the moneyed snares.
Beat upon the classic drip leaf womb, thrown out amid the original nut crackers’ snap!
You do not think of Mr. Toad or his wild ride, your children’s stories
And how these teatime fantasies lied.
Chewed on wet young beef, belief of blonde whine
Filled women cried to be a bride,
Because they couldn’t hide the Cinderella songs
Those Snow White slippers through the gasps of wedding vows.
So the flag was raised glorious amid the roses of love and success.
A lemon better cheer fills the throats of old men
And the young women make lemonade with their seductive, saccharine
Sacrifices before the altars.
A flash of blinding purple cowers the horned headed
Frothing beasts, their purpose suddenly dreadful,
With their eyes full and puffing like steam organs
Removed of every stop.
Through the graves the deer were barking,
As the dappled light of dawn breezed through the mist
And the chapel bells were screaming off like earthquakes
Reverberating through the catacombs.
A group of drunk Germans slammed their fists onto
The crossword puzzles in outrage. And all of the letters
Of language became spurious, indicating only the scribbles
Of mangled monkeys high on dope.
Groped the band stand, blue skirted flirted and dirted
The headlights, so I said “Goodnight!”