Pigs Might Fly

[LUCKY DIAMOND RICH]

RBP,


LDR

[ 01-28-2002: Message edited by: Lucky Diamond Rich ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I worked at the Marriot Motel Mombo just three Tuesdays from last week
Traffic was tight as a fiddler's E string and I was just about piqued.
But on my way to the fancy dress ballroom while stomping my boots free of snow,
I saw through the window a pig in the sky with a flag saying "Come See Nick's Show!"


[This message has been edited by Mr.Taxi Trix (edited 01-20-2002).]

[Prof Willie B]

Karl, I must say you've taken us aback,
And Nick, you've certainly not been slack.
Rob and Lynneski have given great stuff
But these flying pigs can't get enough.

About forty-five we hope to make.
Twelve hundred hours it's likely to take
Each bit of magic you people give
Might make more than just a "paper pig" live.

Where are you Chance, Martin, Brian, Debbie, Ulla, the Youngest One, Shelley et al.

And LDR, poetry is very like street performing, you have to start some where and then you keep trying.
Take your time, then try a few out on us. It can't be much worse than mine. Then try again.
Does Frack write poetry?


[This message has been edited by Prof Willie B (edited 01-21-2002).]

[Lynneski]

A child who assembled some things
(Mostly paper and glue and some strings)
Started forming a pig
'Round a balloon oh so big
And topped it all off with some wings.

Said she as the figure did dry
"My hardest I really did try.
Though my piggy looks real,
It's likely, I feel,
That this paper mache pig won't fly."

So tired now she was near reeling,
She kissed pig goodnight with much feeling.
But when she awakened
Just as dawn started breakin',
Her piggy she spied near the ceiling.

As the smile dancing on her lips grew,
Twas then that she suddenly knew:
If she worked hard enough,
(Though doubts made it rough)
Then secret dreams often came true.

[Lynneski]

"When pigs will fly!" I sez to the guy
(Meaning that it would never happen)
But much surprise with my own eyes
Pink wings I see a flappin'!

So now I'm stuck, it's my tough luck
(Cuz of the saying I'd chosen)
I promise next time to say that I'm
Waiting till Hell is fully frozen.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I once knew a kid, a wizard of sorts, she was hip as a pair of jeans.
Her friend was a farting meannie guy with brains like broken machines.
I never knew why they got along, there's never any telling.
She'd be exploring the coolest moves, he'd be lifting his leg and smelling.


He was a fiddler loud and proud, his music full of clamours,
who wrote mean songs, his favorite called "Let’s Pet the Cats With Hammers".
She was an architect building dreams and a racecar driver too,
whenever anyone was hurt, she always knew what to do.

On the day Bongo Topaz the pig flew by why our girl saw him right from the start.
Though she tried to show her old friend the sight, you can only see That with your heart.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I wish I could magic wand up a solution, I say with a tear in my eye.
Wish I could swish you right up in my arms and carry you into the sky.


If I could, I would bathe you in lavender leaves, twirl my hands through your dewbedreamed hair
I would put all the skill of the wind to streamsculpting, make riverbeads for you to wear.


I would handwrap the silvermoon sparkle on snowfall and hand it to you as I cry.
If I had one to give, child as sure as I live, I would give you a pig that could fly.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

“I don’t like it” said Borton the white bewinged pig as his friends looked up into his eyes.
“This is dodgy at best and a featherbrained scheme and if I may say so, no disguise,
a right boob maneuver, a silly concoction, a waste of a couple of years.
Its not gonna work and the upshot of course is that someone will wind up in tears.”

Old Glen the green horse ( a high jumper, of course) chuckled “Hey, you’ve got nothing to fear.
When our Bill throws the lever you’ll see how quite clever this catapult launches you, dear.
You’ll clear yonder fence and go straight flapping hence through the clouds to great fortune and fame.
Think of it as a laugh or a chance to be wild or a merry windfiddling game.”


“Remember,” said Alphonso Seymore the cat, “You have only one life, unlike me,
do you think you should do something before you go, do you need to go poop, or to pee?”
“Oh pipe down” said Elixir, the juggling sheep, as he chewed on a fresh piece of straw,
Borton is ready, his wings are both steady, he’s not even wearing a bra.”

“What drivel is this?” piped up Martin the chicken with white stuff all smeared on his face
Are you morons expecting this clumsy old woodpile will launch Captain Bacon to space?”
“Steady now” chimed in Robbie the old butterfly as he landed nearby on a fence.
“Give Borton a minute to shake his head up, and maybe he’ll gather some sense.”

“Nice fort! Good sport, Bort, did you bring a change of shorts?” queried Nick the mischievious dog,
“This is right up your alley, mate, rally your bones now and jump like a windgifted frog.”

As on cue, Bill threw back the old lever and WHOOSH! Bort was sent over top and along
And a wind caught his wings, he pumped up, bada bing, it was easy as whistling a song.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I walked into a snowed-up meadow earlier today, to gather icicles for a coming fight.
I was packing an armful and ready to quit, glad of a day's work done, when pink on top of blue man, what a sight.

Up in the sky a pig did fly, I tried to sigh and smiled,
and called out loud "Yo Pig, you wanna cup of tea?"
It must have been the right thing to ask, he hovered there, a moment passed, and then he drifted down right next to me.

"My name is Eddie Presto, I'm a magic flying pig, I been tooling round up there for 3 hours and somethin'.
I could stand a quickish break, got thirst to slake, make no mistake, does your offer of tea by chance include a muffin?"

Well Eddie and I have since roamed the sky, he's a stand up guy who will give you a try, he showed me how to make a pair of wings.
Over tea that day we laughed fear away and just let me say that that pig's ok, he's got a spirit flight inside him that just sings.

So the next pig you see flyin' don't you let your tongue get tyin' quit your cryin' lyin' sighin', think on your feet.
Hollar up an invitation, quick, light fast and information that you might want to include is what's to eat.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

There lives an old pig in New York
who can eat with a knife and a fork.
He plays fiddle, and sings,
flies the skies with white wings,
the farmer's right proud of that pork.

[ 02-05-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Peter Voice]

Thank you all for your contributions, esp. Karl.
The project is going well and some updates will soon be worth posting here, but in the meantime a short story.

We have a shop in the facade of a spectacular, but derelect, theatre in an inner suburb of Melbourne, where we are making the pigs and doing our photo shoots etc. The display window has been set up with 2 of Bev Isaac's huge paintings, as backgrounds, and "Flying Pigs" (the 3D papier mache things) suspended with fishing line, throughout.
It looks pretty magical really (lots of people stop).

We were working away the other(hot) day with the door wide open and this guy came along with three little girls. One in a stroller about 2 or 3, another about 4 or 5, on foot, and a 6 or 7 year-old.

The oldest said, "Oh, Wow, Dad look at the Flying Pigs." The youngest squealed "Piggies, Piggies", with delight and the middle kid, eyes wide, said in the clearest and most serious tone,

"Daddy, they are just like the real ones!".

[ 01-26-2002: Message edited by: Peter Voice ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

He couldn’t believe it, the old bird was stumped, I had shown him true wonder at last.
“Well kiddo,” he told me, “I’ve never seen this, though as you do know, in the past,
I’ve seen seven wonders around this old globe, I’ve witnessed as monks blessed a fish,
I’ve parted the leaves to reveal starlight singing a debestrewn mystical wish.
I’ve watched verbal crowbars opening people’s minds, I’ve seen sixteen seals seek a silence.
But never before have I stood by the door as a pig flew up over the sty fence.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

There was a pig named Alabaster,he was fast, serene and heavy.
He liked old style rock and roll and drove a beat-up Chevy.

His secret was, he took flying lessons from a whisper cat:
who showed him Sufi magic high blown float-up air attack.

Old Alabaster threw us all for one cerebral loop
the day he flew off, hitting farmer Jones with a chunk of poop.

You have to respect a flying pig, they've overcome so much.
Letting go of rules to which most of us sad creatures blindly clutch.

[ 01-26-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I met a child in town today who had a paper cup
she shined a smile to me when I asked her what was up.

I'd seen the cup was empty, yet her step was quite complete,
and asked what had her walking there so lightly on her feet.

"The empty cup" she told me "is a gesture which I give,
to unseen winds and impulses, to moments which might live:

a safe space I provide in which a flying pig might land,
to gently be transferred into my open, waiting hand."

Right there I saw that even though I wish that I was wise,
I'll never know a tenth of what's behind that child's eyes.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

“There’s a pig in the birdbath, Harold, son, what kind of a farm do you keep?”
Harold looked out the window, sure enough, on the lawn, head up, butt deep,
Sat a big pink pig with small white wings, a scarf and safety goggles.
“What a bog of a hog Harold cogitated in the fog: I’ll be frogged, my memorie’s joggled,

to that sorry old story Cory McNory told Maury on midsummers eve
about the little guy who tried to fly high and that nobody seemed to believe
“Could this pig be the one?” muttered Harold that day (what an oft repeated queary)
As he slowly approached the pig lifted a trotter and asked “Hoy! Got a muffin, dearie?”

[ 02-13-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>