limericks

[Airborne Dan]

There once was a cowboy named Stan
Who said "I fuck sheep when I can"
He picked out a ewe
Stuck in his cue
and conceived Butterfly Man

[Lynneski]

Some producers just met in Vancouver
(Though attendance will be an improver)
Still contracts got refined
And tours brought into line
Before tasty martinis we did hoover

In frequenting all Granville Isle's pubs
And plotting the next season's snubs
We talked of you all
And if you play ball
While comparing the size of your clubs

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

As you choosers produce, as you cast,
we discuss chicken sex, past due tax,
Japan Wives, haiku posts,
censorship, custom jokes,
Prize-sized takings within massive hats.

It gets cold, we huddle with real friends.
December wanes,
our corporate meal ends.
Chilled annoyance is born
finger up, face forlorn
at the bastards who go to New Zealands.


Dedicated with love and puzzlement to Jodi.

[Lynneski]

There's something in that which you say,
That producers will cast as they may.
But there's so many dear friends,
And a few very smart rear-ends,
It's too bad that you can't ALL come play.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

The winter winds tumbled and billowed,

Saint Nick, candied, brandied, and
jelloed,

traversed both time and space

a wince gracing his face

"My ass hurts, but this sled is pillowed."




[This message has been edited by Mr.Taxi Trix (edited 12-16-2001).]

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Chris Cringle's Codependant Christmas.

As Mrs. Clause emptied her bladder
hung over, her head growing fatter
the sheer sound of the Pole
through her head ate a hole
from toy noise to ceaseless elf chatter

As her bowels she endeavored to move,
In walked Santa, with jingly elf groove.
Her privacy spent,
she intoned her lament,
in a voice with a full case to prove.

She stomped her red boot, it took guts
She said "Hey, listen now, you old putz,
I'll say it plain clear
these noisy reindeer
are driving me right fucking nuts!

This toybuilding racket and clamor
If I see one more goddamn hammer,
one more twisted elf grin
I'll drink all of our gin,
just look for me down in the slammer."

"I'm brushing my goddamn teeth!
its not a good time for your beef
I'm not saying no,
my red-stockinged ho,
Just busy beyond fucking belief.

The tic tac toe boards need their tics tacked
The toy trains need their tiny trips mapped
The Rumpley Goose
needs new platform shoes
Now pipe down before you get bitch slapped."

He bent, toothpaste-minted, and
kissed her.
She said "Listen, now hear
this, mister:
before I leave the planet,
tell these midgets to can it."
With wet whispered oaths he
dismissed her.

To the kitchen she scurried, as fate willed
Old Santa came to get his plate filled.
The black coffee dripped,
from her hip flask she nipped.
Thus morning was born up in Flakeville.






[This message has been edited by Mr.Taxi Trix (edited 12-18-2001).]

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

The proud vegetarian twit
would eat naught but tofu and shit
"It does taste disgusting,
but I will say something,
its 10 years since I got a zit."

A carnivore dining
beside him,
slid mass-produced flesh down:
the glide grim.
Evolution at bay
while consuming decay,
things long dead sliding inside him.

Its digestion, subjective, picky.
To each his own choice, often sticky.
Pick what course you will follow
there are things some can swallow
which make other folks simply sicky.

To avoid screaming shits, Martin's piney.
He will pull down trou, showing hiney
and rebuke with a moon
those who dance to the tune
composed of notes happy and shiny.

Our Brady when censored just leaves.
John Barleycorn makes Lucky heave.
And there is something, too,
that full-on sickens you.
(Like big puffy renaissance sleeves.)



[This message has been edited by Mr.Taxi Trix (edited 12-21-2001).]

[nick nickolas]

Mary had a little lamb
She sat uopon a plylon
10,000 volts went up her arse
And now her wool is nylon

[Triona]

<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica" size="2">Originally posted by Mr.Taxi Trix:
Our Brady when censored just leaves.
John Barleycorn makes Lucky heave.
And there is something, too,
that full-on sickens you.
(Like big puffy renaissance sleeves.)

But I like big puffy renaissance sleeves.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

alternate with my compliments...

Our Brady when censored just leaves
John Barleycorn makes Lucky heave
And there is something, too
that full-on sickens you:
left lane slow drivers: my peeves.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

This Christmas, a pervy young louse
pissed off his devoted young spouse.
She said "Stuff the turkey."
He performed something quirky
and got kicked right out of the house.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A frolic, cavort and a wink
a dance on the edge of the brink
visions tasty, sublime
bike ride through this old mind,
like you, lass, bent over a sink.

[Jenny]

!woW! !em ot emac tsuj sihT
...sseug I noitaripsni nedduS.

Late last night wierd gods took the stage
absurdity lept off the page
context free, the place jiggling
next to see: everyone giggling
as comedy crowned itself sage.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

10,000 giraffe from Malasia
are curious how much it pays ya
what's the crowd scene film scale
(word is out in the mail
that the Mouse is re-filming Fantasia.)

While in Zanzibar twenty six dead fish
all cavort in a diner, the red dish.
Called "compassionate bitches"
giving up worldly riches,
chanting, and sharing a death wish.

and in Phoenix, a model named Rex
with nice penis and well-sculpted pecs
poses pointalist painting
while infrequently fainting
collecting a cache full of checks.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

as I type in this keyboarded text
fairly carefree but nonetheless vexed
I am riddled , uncertain
what's behind the next curtain,
in what language will Rumple type next?