Why I Am Turning the Channel
A found poem, using search terms people have used to find this site
What were you thinking, talk show host?
I have had heartburn for hours, from all the
Burrito licking, and your terrible tamale jokes.
Who does your wardrobe? Hair styling sadists?
Oh, those pilgrim shoes and David Cassidy pukka shell necklaces,
and the tranny clothes. The tranny clothes, the tranny clothes.
The motown man is a liar, and a bad guest.
That 800 pound man-tic,
with his sonnet about nascar drivers
and their shoes that fly off in an accident.
Bring back the identical twins boyfriends.
I would rather watch children's chat shows, Tranny Man,
Or a nature show about guinea fowl silencing.
(You know the theme song..."I'm a wildebeest, you just a wildebeest..")
Or even hamster porno animas,
(It tickled till you wet your pants; it wasn't a caterpillar, it was an eyebrow.)
Maybe I'd rather be watching silence of the lambs with kids.
Freestyle canoeing. Sitting in the chair of Marquis de Sade.
Oh. Hold that thought. I hear my neibors again.
(spying on my neighbors, spying on my teenage neighbor, spying on neighbors naked, spying on neighbors jerking off)
I'm back. And I have some questions for you:
Does lemur poop stink? What hormones go off when one flamingo is attracted to another? How to make an igloo out of chocolate? How to make a sombrero out of duct tape?
Do old people's eyebrows fall off?
I think you know.
Play the Sweeny Todd game, funky white boy.
Ha. ha. you. you. It's all just heartburn thinking.
*faux flip-off*
This is how Rome fell.
A found poem, using search terms people have used to find this site
What were you thinking, talk show host?
I have had heartburn for hours, from all the
Burrito licking, and your terrible tamale jokes.
Who does your wardrobe? Hair styling sadists?
Oh, those pilgrim shoes and David Cassidy pukka shell necklaces,
and the tranny clothes. The tranny clothes, the tranny clothes.
The motown man is a liar, and a bad guest.
That 800 pound man-tic,
with his sonnet about nascar drivers
and their shoes that fly off in an accident.
Bring back the identical twins boyfriends.
I would rather watch children's chat shows, Tranny Man,
Or a nature show about guinea fowl silencing.
(You know the theme song..."I'm a wildebeest, you just a wildebeest..")
Or even hamster porno animas,
(It tickled till you wet your pants; it wasn't a caterpillar, it was an eyebrow.)
Maybe I'd rather be watching silence of the lambs with kids.
Freestyle canoeing. Sitting in the chair of Marquis de Sade.
Oh. Hold that thought. I hear my neibors again.
(spying on my neighbors, spying on my teenage neighbor, spying on neighbors naked, spying on neighbors jerking off)
I'm back. And I have some questions for you:
Does lemur poop stink? What hormones go off when one flamingo is attracted to another? How to make an igloo out of chocolate? How to make a sombrero out of duct tape?
Do old people's eyebrows fall off?
I think you know.
Play the Sweeny Todd game, funky white boy.
Ha. ha. you. you. It's all just heartburn thinking.
*faux flip-off*
This is how Rome fell.
24 comments:
I just cannot understand what overtakes people to ask such weird questions that lead them to our blogs and our lives, Vic, but you have made a creature of art out of them!! Congrats!
That is freaking hilarious!!
I may umm borrow your idea someday because your a genius and I love you!!!
April is National Poetry month! We should all celebrate our Inner Poet!
That was so cool!
Aren't people wonderfully strange?!
Groovy. (I'm snapping my fingers)
Wow, that almost made a strange sort of Zen-like sense. Maybe, in the end, all of these bizarre search strings really mean something.
Or maybe people just really want to see their neighbors naked.
Me thinks you must submit this to Borderlands or something. Sheer weird poetry. That's it, send it to Austin's Keep It Weird poetry fest.
Um, I think there's such a thing.
genius. poetry genius. i need to discover how my fives and tens of readers are finding me.
Maybe I need to tickle them.
that's my verification word.
tickle
Oh my gosh! What a great poem!!
We were just discussing caterpillar eyebrows at my house!
BTW- It's nice to meet you too! I wish it had been on a different post but in case you didn't notice, I'm a bit messed up!
I'm glad I found you via Miss Yvonne!
Hugs!!
A Woman of No Importance,
Thanks! The scary thing is I left out a few of the more disturbing ones.
Michelle,
Borrow away! I always think it's interesting to see what searches lead people to a blog. What does it say about us? :)
a striver for sanity,
You're right! I actually forgot, which is probably a fine-able offense for a teacher. I hang my head.
Girl Interrupted,
Thanks! I'm eternally fascinated by people. I could sit on a bench and watch them for hours. This is the virtual bench?
diane,
But are you wearing a beret?
Shawn,
I think probably the second thing most of all. I shudder to think what my neighbors look like naked, however.
Fragrant Liar,
Would you go hang out in Austin with me? I've seriously always wanted to go there. We could pretend to be all artsy!
Lulu,
How could they resist tickling? Also I choose to believe none of my known bloggy friends have searched with terms like "hamster porno animas". It's too much information, frankly.
Tracytreasure,
Thanks! "bit messed up"= human. It's a pretty huge club, I think.
:)
I imagine Doby Gillis reciting this in a smoking bar...
You're awesome.
I am not fooled by that question, of course I am still wearing my foil alien hat.
That is genius.
*applause*
I loved your post about freestyle canoeing. It was both poetic and exciting.
I'm gonna set this beauty to music.
Accordian will play a major part in the composition.
This was like an epic poem by some ancient Greek sitting on a rocky shoreline while waves crashed about him and whipped his hair and beard about in a frenzy of creation. With Lemur poop.
Sarah,
How did you know I was channeling my inner beatnik?
diane,
All you need is the liner....:)
that Baldy Fella,
Thank you, sir.
Prosy,
I still having openings on the canoe team, if you're interested.
Dr. Zibbs,
Your composition is already giving me chills. The accordion is a perfect choice. I also hear slide whistle.
Kurt,
I learned at the foot of the ancients, it is true. The lemur poop and neighbor spying is my nod to contemporary issues.
Non curo. Nullo metro compositum est. Si metrum non habet, non est poema.
Poet Bloggereate. Bravo!
So funny! You should see the bizarre ones I get with "stripper" in my blog title. Some of them make even me blush.
Great blog~
Whoa, this was obviously a really deep poem because I didn't understand any of it. Except the part about spying on your neighbors jerking off.
I'm not sure people would find my blog if they put the blog title in a search engine.
That poem is impressive - I've heard worse at open mic nights. A lot worse.
the iNDefatigable mjenks,
Okay. I don't speak your fancy Latin... but here's my best shot:
"Why not? Have no fear of agreeable assembling. Sacrifice fear but also don't have a poem."
I know. I'm pretty amazing.
Margo,
Bloggereate! (I love that everything can be combined with blogger. It's a brave new virtual world...)
Chrissy,
Thank you! And welcome (and now I have to come read all about your stripper adventures! :)
Miss Yvonne,
I am so deep you can't even see the surface from here. Either that, or it didn't really mean anything. :)
Mr. London Street,
Thank you. I especially like the carefully hidden subtext about the Cold War. Or not. :)
quite stunningly beautiful. I feel a compilation coming on. I never get such interesting keyword searches, or perhaps it's just that my immensely boring platform doesn't show them (or I don't know where to find? could I be idiot? surely not)
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