Horrid Poetry

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

My friend Brendan became a new father this week
and today we were riverwalking lads.
As my daughter Samantha, 13, still alive,
seems to qualify me as a dad,
he was asking what worked in the infanttime dance,
what would I have done more of if I could?
So I took a good look at my times with my shnook,
and I fired up this old brain of wood,
and said "simply delight. don't hold back on your joy,
cause that kid will dance just like an elf."
And on looking right now at that walk I see how
I could stand that advise for myself.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I saw your ghost in a convenience store today
on my way home from a show: a stupid show.
A woman had told me "you should be more patient."
I didn't say "Your kid should be more human."
(Her husband had tipped me fifty,
so I chose to be patient with her.)

I was sitting in the bathroom, thinking with my sphincter,
and you walked in and sat on the baby changing table.
Tall as a tree, light as a feather, gypsy dark and those eyes.
And you just stared, strong, silent, certain.
Coldness froze me, just like you said it would,
years ago, my hand in both of yours.

Leaving, looking, lingering I see
twelve types of tea, and fifteen forms of Freetos.
Their silent, singing calliope of colors
a seeking question mark, guided to my gullet.
All asking after any empty feeling:
and I'm just certain nothing can refresh me.


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[ 10-20-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I had the good fortune to step through a mirror about a year ago.
and saw a thousand things there was no way that I would know
a landscape rich with questions, hives of unfamiliar honey
people all preoccupied with businesses and money.

I didn't fit, to whit, I quit
that shit and quickly split
And left them there to blink and stare:
they miss me not a bit.

[StarPixy]

Ok, this isn't really poetry, but it sure is funny.
Does anyone know where the word "shit" came from? In the old days in Europe, they used to buy cow dung for the nitrates inside it to make gun powder. They used to carry the caca cargo in the bottom of the shipping boat, but the smell used to rise up and permeate into the whole ship. So they started to ship the poop on the top deck. On the crates they used to printthe word SHIT because it stood for

Ship
High
In
Transit....S.H.I.T. [img]rolleyes.gif[/img]

[Triona]

Could give a new meaning to the word "poop deck" <img src="graemlins/haha.gif" border="0" alt="[ha ha]" />

[Crescent]

"I like cake Cake is fun"

^ the above 'poetry' does actually have a meaning! here's the story:

I entered a poetry contest twice, and was published twice....I wanted to make sure it wasn't one of those scam-type things where everyone who enters gets published...so I entered the above 'poem'

They never contacted me. [img]confused.gif[/img]

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A penguin in Armani glasses asked me Tuesday evening
if I would tell him who I thought I was.
I looked at him from ten feet high and noticed I was greiving,
but just to set him straight, I gave the buzz...

"A windmill twisting rapidly, by swift one-liners blown
a self-proclaimed 'your magesty' on handmade stickbuilt throne
a miniature celebrity in tiny boots of clay
a laughter-habadasher who can really make it pay."

He said "well you're a cheeky sort, and it would be a treat
to know if you have friends who do the same.
Is there some brotherhood among performers of the street,
strange birds who play this self-made sideshow game?"

I said "You speak of people who I hold in high regard,
whose charm and wit are tasty beyond measure.
You'll never know how much I love these shysters, roughes, and cards,
this posh performing posse pushing placebos of passing pleasure.

We are reflected light in the mud puddle of your life
a brown-eyed gypsy troupe who stole the heart of your young sister
a homespun form of wonder lacking fabricated hype
a fat tugboat armada floating slowly up the river."

[ 09-27-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Come listen, my boy, and I'll tell you the tale of the Bindlestiff Family Show.
There are freaks of variety, masters of comedy, sixty-nine reasons to go.

As you walk in you see, to your eyes mad delight, our own Viveca manning the door.
(And I'll bet ten, you fool, that she's running a pool, on how many props fall to the floor.)

Mr. Pennygraff comes in in fantastic garb, with his patter and quick pirate smile.
He'll regale you with stories and fling you a barb, and he's swallowing swords all the while.

You may see at the show a mischevious Jewel who will walk up a ladder of swords.
All in leather and mystery wrapped, looking cool, guaranteed to entrance all the hoardes.

There is magic and circus, a widespread array, of unparalelled haunting enchantment.
When you walk in and part with the pittance you'll pay, be prepared for full contact contentment.

But watch out! Take a care as you walk in the door, and the circus museum surrounds you.
You'll be bent into wonder, and twisted to joy, as these life-loving freaks will astound you.

As you glimpse with your heart these bright lights and this art you'll be lifted to laughter sublime.
And you'll want to breathe more of the air through this door,
even if the last bit's a cheap rhyme.


*

[ 10-24-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Butterfly Man]

I'm tired of juggling, so boring to me
Forget that tall uni, ‘twas bad for my knee
Got rid of that costume, those points and those bells
And bugged off the street, no more screams, no more yells

So now with swagger, a mic and no props
No bags to lug with me, no worries ‘bout drops
I’m feeling the freedom, my heart all aglow
Stand-up, it's a new life, I’ll just let it flow

So it’s 2 in the morning and I’ve yet to go on.
Most everyone’s left, ‘cept some guy in the john
The smoke’s still so thick, it cuts with a knife
And nobody’s laughing, including my wife

Up here, in the dark, on the stage, all alone
My jokes aren’t working, I moan as they groan
But I finish my set though my ego is beat
Fuck this bullshit called stand-up, I'm back on the street

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A real funny day at the circus this week
has left Maude in a bundle of stress.
Thirteen clowns tooling 'round in a car with a leak
left an oil slick, slime-riddled mess.

Jake the tall man came out on his stilts made of wood,
and he slipped on the slick, his arms wheeling,
and he cursed very loud to the shock of the crowd
as he tumbled from up near the ceiling.

Obidiah the ancient and nearsighted clown
rode his bike to his spot in the end ring.
Without noticing Jake in his sprawl on the ground,
he rolled over, the bycicle bending.

O'er Jake's belly, a rather uncomfortable spin
Jake was curling himself in a ball
as he brought his legs in his stilts whacked the soft shin
of a juggler just in from Saint Paul.

Who was lucky he wasn't observed in the way
of the nearsighted bycicling clown
Obediah, who pondered while wheeling away
"What on earth was that lump on the ground?"

While he looked over back to observe what he'd hit
his bike crashed into something alarming.
The main tent pole! As Obe mouthed a silent soft "shit",
The tent tumbled down, clearly charming.

And now Maude has to set every piece back in place
must create some new form of beginning.
(There's the ten o'clock show to take place in this space
she's a sweeper who's not really grinning.)

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Macaroni the clown was embroiled in confusion concerning his pratfall today.
He'd done it a million and one times before, but never in quite this new way.
Because just as he tumbled toward turf and applause and the laughter his bruises would earn,
he was dreaming of kissing a certain girl clown, and the many things he'd like to learn,
while falling with her and as he daydreamed onward, his body forgot it should fall,
and the next thing he knew he was upwardly drifting, without any gimmick at all.

He knew right away that this flight was impossible, knew it would bring him no rest,
especially since he saw his agent beaming, cashing a great cache full of checks,
and the thought of attempting to float once again under pressure to bring in some cash,
sent him tumbling quick to the ground, where his slick tricked pants ripped, and he flipped, and he crashed.

*

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[ 10-23-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A bald policeman watched and waited, lurking, loitering, lingering,
As Saul and Marty played to hundreds, loving, laughing, listening.
To this fine show which was itself a spectacle in moonlight: a definite example that the streets were looking up.
To these two comic geniuses whose gaze was so observant,
They’d note on walking by the ocean, it was down a cup.

As Saul and Marty played the laughs out, waiting, baiting, skating,
Our cop was on the fringes slowly flinching, bitching, itching,

To get his hands on these two guys and put their night on shelves
For bringing too much wonder and attention to themselves.
To show these guys who’s in control at Harvard Square this year,
"There's no bracelet like chrome for the holidays" he'd sneer.


For having so much cheek to play here, honestly, openly, lovingly,
Unwelcome Joy-Infusion Handcuffs, silvery, rapidly, finally.

[scot]

4th Grade rap phase:

It was a very dark halloween night;
I fell off the curb and I screamed with fright.
I did a big endo and they said, "Your gonna biff!"
Yeah that's what they said, yeah Trisha and Tiff.

I said, "No way!" but it was too late,
for after what had happened, I was as flat as slate.
I didn't get to trick or treat any more
and I had to hand out candy at my own front door.

And another thing that wasn't very rad:
I ripped my new pants and my mom was very mad.

[StarPixy]

Ugh....

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

The puppet Meese just bowed his head, all formal, full of class.
He tore apart the passers by, he barbed 'em, rude and crass.
His comments dug right to the bone, his lungs just full of gas.
He smiled, though he had a hand so deeply in his ass.

A businessman full fifty years got angry at the doll
And argued that he wasn't a full lickass, not at all.
But truth will out and puppet boy had made a brilliant call.
We saw through thick denials and just had ourselves a ball.

A black guy in a jogging suit was dubbed a pinching thief,
He got just flat indignant, but his anger was too brief
to give us juice, he caught himself like you would catch a leaf,
and then there came a target vulnerable beyond belief.

She floated in on small winged feet, in misty light blue robe.
Around her neck a crystal hung for her to gently rub.
A devotee of new age ways, a walking talking rube.
About her hung a wealth of peace, the dummy, doomed to rob.

To watch and wonder at the thin veneer of seeming peace
and see the calm and tranquil stance so quickly give release
to wellspring worlds of fury, red face fired at our Meese,
who parlayed it to neck veigns, as he prepped his practiced fleece.

She stammered on religiously and hellfired Meese full bore.
He asked her if she'd once been known as Gimmiecash the whore.
And as she rasped her sharp denial, almost in a roar,
The hat came round, I tipped a ten, and wished that I had more.



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[ 10-23-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>