MONKEY POEM by mary ware
Monkey monkey monkey stix!
Big Big Big ears!
arm arm sweaty hair!
BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM!
rhythm in a flower hole!
rhythm in a monkey hole!
eyes eyes watching me
ink ink big inky
baby baby baby hand
monkey monkey monkey hand
song about a monkey
if you please!
going to a concert please!
sitting with a monkey yeah!
OH! GROSS! GROSS! YUCK!
Big bum bread head!
big huge massive head!
think of monkey chimp chimp
snort sniff shoot shit!
The Maryite Prophecy of the cro-moose:
As seen through the eyes of Mary Ware
mishter pishter is coming to
my house today. he is bringing his friends horse and hattock. if his
toenail becomes caught on my sock i will know the grinning apocalypse is
near. if the grinning apocalypse is near i will have to journey to the
land of impish gibbons. if i journey to the land of impish gibbons, i
will find there a fruitful band of madcap cogitations, ready to spill
the
humors of this world over all the spangled heavens. if i find that
amorphous troop in the midst of an ethereal arborescence, i will hide
inside a sycamore tree and fire splenetics at them. if i rise up so
piquantly against the inevitable collision of man and mad, surely the
seraphic eidolons will, with much haste, and propitious prologue, ply
their prosaic immersions on the vexatious sebaceous precipices
aforementioned, and with much caustic invective, form into a xiphoid,
thereby sundering the hoodwinked malaperts, while i regard with much
oscitation. thus enervated, and having made manifest a state of
somnolence within themselves, those precarious inhabitants of the land
of impish gibbons will retire to their inverted thaumaturgic and
sophistry. if the squealing phantasmagoria so recede, my own
oft-punctured compendium will imbibe the heady cruor of those remaining
pyrrhonists. thus will an abundance of diminutive ligneous
constructions
degradate, causing much consternation as the epoch wanes. i give you
portent of the apodictic recontre.
"jenga will fall and rise again..." --winfinite
THE BEST LAID PLANS OF DOB AND LORG
by Mary
There once were two people named Dob and Lorg. Dob had a house
with a room in it and in this room was a shelf and on this shelf was a
jar that contained some preserved cow lips. I don't know how he came to
have these cow lips. The only other thing in his room was a shoe horn.
Lorg also had a house with a room. He didn't have a shelf but on the
floor was a jar with a pair of preserved mouse lips. He had caught his
cat burying them in his potted azalea. One day Dob went over to Lorg's
house and noticed the mouse lips in the jar. He promptly had an idea. If
he and Lorg set up a museum with their cow lips and mouse lips on
display, they could make lots of money. Ooh, maybe he could buy an
asparagus cooker for his room. Lorg had a shack in his backyard. They
took their jars out to the shack and placed them on a serendipitous
table. They made a sign that said MUSEUM and hung it outside. Well,
said Lorg, we're going to need a security guard to throw people out.
Right, said Dob, otherwise they'll stand there looking at my cow lips for
a week. Oh yeah? said Lorg. Well, they'll want to look at my mouse lips
for 130 years. Dob was indignant. My cow lips are better than your
mouse lips, he said. Your cow lips are stupid, said Lorg. Dob became
angry. He tried to hit Lorg but Lorg was quick and he blocked the punch.
I need a weapon, thought Dob. He looked about and spotted a large glass
jar lying nearby. Jar = weapon, said his brain. He snatched up the jar
and broke it upside Lorg's head. This made Lorg dizzy for a moment. Then
he left off being dizzy and started being angry. He wanted a weapon too.
He looked around and noticed a small glass jar on a table. He picked it
up and smashed it into the side of Dob's face. Suddenly they discovered
that the jars they had used to mollywop each other were the jars that had
once held their cow lips and mouse lips in a preserved state. When the
air touched the cow lips and mouse lips they shrivelled up and turned
brown, like raisins. Dob and Lorg both sat down and began to cry. They
were both bleeding profusely. Now I can't buy an asparagus cooker, said
Dob. Oh my precious mouse lips, said Lorg. Well, at least I still have
my health, said Dob. Want to go for a unicycle ride? asked Lorg. Sure,
said Dob.
They had fun.
