I.
when
in the age
of the iguanodon
the old times...
the good times...
many years before crab
many years before the space mans
i came to this land
i touched its soil
i felt its troubles
II.
iguana
he say
who are you
i say
i say to him
i floated here
on my time tortoise
Sunday, May 27, 2007
iguanodon times: a poem
ebb tone: a poem
with a shell
make the ebb tone
with a heart
make the ebb tone
there's a hill
there's a hilltop
it's a hilltop
let's get it going
let's move the hilltop
stop that
no stop that
no stop that
it's the ebb man
it's the ebb men
it's the hilltop
oh boy
Saturday, May 26, 2007
colap: a poem
colap:
mountaintop
mountainbottom
through the mountains
eight chirps
three seconds
it's amazing
Thursday, May 24, 2007
horse bon: a poem
ro ro!
ba ba!
horse go fast,
horse go slow
eat that ketchup,
watch it go!
the horse is flying
the horse is crying
the horse got dumped by his girlfriend of like 3 years
archer's arrows: a beautiful poem
I.
hark
methinks i hear'd
arrows flying
through the fat air
II.
love is in our hearts
and in our bodies
you can feel it
riiiiiiight here
III.
sense it
taste it
smell it
sense it
it's the hot arrow
the hot arrow of love
flannigan morris: a poem
flannigan blake and morris
the two brothers
the two people of the dream
they go to the country
they're picking so many blueberries
you cannot possibly stop them
just look on
and watch
in wonder
crisp pieces: a poem
i reach into the bag
my hand fills with crisp pieces
they reflect the ache of my life
and all our lives
they reflect the way time is like
a shattered mirror
in pieces
do you see where i'm going with this
or should i just, like
stop already?
the bullshit of god is the bullshit of our souls: a manifesto
I suggest to you that we all say 'to heck with the beeswax'
I suggest that we party down
I suggest that we freak out and get our grooves on
I suggest that we make the cow base
I suggest we do all that, and have a good time
For friends
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
cookie numbers: a poem
cookie
numbars
numbars
apelike
torn man
torn man
when they sayin
when they sayin
it's a pork bruce
and the pork bruce
it makes everything
it makes everything
make sense
just find it
on microphone: a poem
do you remember,
my countrymen,
when grapes weren't
so abundant
and microphones
grew
from the ground?
of course not
dude.
the ultimate dance: a poem
I.
rosen heights
building games
everything falls
in the hate of fresh
II.
no
no, no, no
i don't want it like that
you barge men
no way
no how
not with barge men
who won't do the ultimate dance
About falling in love
falling in love...
it changes you man
it changes your heart...your life...your dreams
everything changes with beautiful love
Monday, May 21, 2007
my stinger: a poem
management
oriental
you know it?
a train
so fast
oriental
you know it?
gordon freeman
get to lambda core
my stinger.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
whirling dervish: a poem
hush now
can't you see?
over the moutains
running
spinning
whirling
flying
keeping
lording
it's the dervish man
and he's a fireball of love
1895 blues: a poem
I.
i got electrical power
i got a velocipede
i got plans for the future
but i have to wait 5 years
before i can read lord jim
and i'm getting really anxious
i got those 1895 blues
II.
traveled here
with my time tortoise
it's so convenient
i can't wait to go surfing
in 1895
velarized alveolar lateral approximant: a poem
velarized alveolar lateral approximant
it's so fresh
it's so hip and downtown
get with the flavor
in 2007
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Waffle Town, a new SifBlog imprint
Hey friend.
I bet you can't get enough SifBlog...
That's all right.
Because now there's Waffle Town.
It's our newest creation here at SifBlog™ Industries.
We hope you enjoy it.
Because here at SifBlog, we work day and night and day again, towards our one and only goal: bringing you fresh poems and stories, insightful social commentary, and hilarious topical cartoons that say something important about how we live today.
So next time you're thinking about having some fun and rocking some tunes, reach for SifBlog - the choice of a new generation.
rob thomas, the half-shell: a poem
here's a story
it's about rob thomas
the half-shell
and his friends
and his barn
and his dad hank
and his lawyer men
and his bogus quarterly
and his pure hate gongs
and his fiefdom
and his lordship
and his apple orchard
and his time tortoise
wait
wait, hold on
did you say he had
a fucking
time tortoise?
i did, i did
what did he do with it?
what do you think, man?
he traveled through time
cos i'm pretty sure...
that's what they're for.
bugo epps: a poem
bugo frog
bugo epps
where goes the magpie
i know not
butcho franks
the end of mans
everybody says
that guy is so crazy
Friday, May 18, 2007
trouble time: a poem
ball....
ox....
time....
brushes....
y'all in my pig-pen
trouble...
friends...
kings...
ape-crabs...
y'all also in my pig-pen
the man who wears chaps: a poem
on the east coast
on the west coast
ladies of great reknown
are always seen talking about
the man who wears chaps
the fire in his gaze
will move you
the sweetness of his breath
will make you say, "oh damn"
the smoothness of his voice
will end all world wars
let's hear it for
the man who wears chaps
traubo jenks: a lyric poem
listen now, my children
to the tale of traubo jenks
he ate all the pizza around
and put all his money in benks*
but everything wasn't so great
in his seemingly peachy-keen life
for he could not stomach the sound
of his awfully querulous wife
so one day traubo went down
to the isle of inisfree
and in one maginificent bound
he shot himself in the knee
*i'm sorry for that
box of fun: a poem
ooooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooh!
the box!
the box of fun!
gonna catch it!
gonna run around the man!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
tonsil o!: a poem
say it man
tonsil o!
say it go
tonsil o!
friend of happer
friend of man
tractor o!, tractor o!
there's a copper hen
no there's not?
oh i get it now
Magazines to which I subscribe
- Giant Robot Standard
- Honeybee Prospectus
- H.H. Poodog's
- Golden Bar Man! Magazine
- Tencho Weekbon
- Gatekeeper Lord Digest
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
endoscope: a poem
I.
imagine
amongst the reeds
you find a tortoise
and it's so bodacious
what would you do?
what-what-what would you do?
a chicka chow now
II.
you're on your boat
your boat
remember?
there's a pork man
he's so friendly
and he sayin',
o children
consider phlebas
who was so bodacious
just like
that
tortoise
snap it
porqal bobs: a poem
all day long
porqal bobs
in the trees and in the houses
porqal bobs
at the store they sell
porqal bobs
in my head i hear about
porqal bobs
the end
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
the emerald voyage: a poem
braithwaite
among all hounds
we watch
we seek
we dare
enter all flesh
the devouring of the soul
i wish someone would shoot me
you know, with a gun
beep beep, crab meat
truck men: a poem
truck men
hard men
men i love
men you love
we're all brothers
at the factory
we're all brothers
in my dreams...
soul freakin': a freak-out
everybody at
the kiwanis club
wanna talk about
soul freakin'
everybody at
the nights of columbo
talkin' bout
a-soul freakin'
Monday, May 14, 2007
the shell of the waves: a love poem
so sweet like nectar
so heavenly like the stars
this feeling of freedom
this feeling of sweet times
you are to me
like the starfish is to the waves
always hiding in its shell
but only once
only once does it come out
and show everyone its beauty
in the water
that is the depth of our love
able-bodied young men: a poem
working on the train
working on the boat
working on the house
working on the car
everywhere in the world
able-bodied young men
they're getting together!
and they're having a good time!
trinket bow: a poem
sunday
i make my milk
tuesday
i make my chow
friday
i make lots of ribbons
and eat them
because i hate my parents
the king train: a poem
the king train
leaving...
the god train
leaving...
wonder where they go
oh oh oh
a frog and a ham
together in a bowl
together in a bowel
tripping the rift
sundays at eleven
thank you
tarantula rock: a song
did you hear?
there's a time
and a place
for everything!!!!
a time for love - tarantula rock!
a time for fun - tarantula rock!
who's that on my window?
it's a man named gary
does gary want some crab legs?
fuck yeah he does!
let's go!
lobster: a poem
I.
take it down
take it on
out in the sea
out in the dunes
(so dark!)
II.
everybody says
they see the lobster
ain't nobody funky enough
is my opinion
Sunday, May 13, 2007
booster engine: a long poem
I.
we go we go
to and fro
to and fro
o i see the angels
they're doin' thangs
II.
sing a song
tra-la-la
cabbage is cheap
so is life
fuuuuuuck
III.
i don't know, what are you doing?
i don't know, just hanging out
why, what's up?
uh huh?
really?
okay.
IV.
seven men
eight women
crabs everywhere
the kingdom of the lord
V.
sing me a song, o boatkeeper
make it one of fish and dreams
and love and hope and all those things
and mountains and sweets
and most of all
make it a song of the times
because
because
because
we're gonna make it this time
we're gonna catch that rainbow
in the booster engine
amen.
The Wrong Time For Love: A Sad Song
(sung to the tune of "My Tallahassee Angel" by Rupert Ogleton)
I thought about love...
I thought about m'darling...
And then I saw...
Nobody's talkin'...
About love no more.....
Everywhere I go....
Everybody so so crazy....
But I'm a man...
With a heart...
And a guitar....
And Sheeeeeila!
You ain't in the house when I called you!
And Sheeeeeila!
I was singin' bout the rocket ships for you!
But ohhhhhh, ain't no time for love...
These daaaaays.....
A Song To Pump You Up
Yeah!
Come on!
Let's do it!
Let's go!
Good times!
Let's go!
Yeah! Yeah!
Yeah Yeah Yeah!
Let's move!
Let's dance!
Let's work!
Have fun!
dog boss: a poem
here it is
i'm gonna show you
listen now
i'm gonna tell you
tell you about the...
DOG BOSS!
friendship in space: a poem
when the meteor goes
when the moon is going
where the jupiter goes
let's all get together
in the year of the future
let me hear you say yeah!
in the year of the moon men
we're gonna say yeah!
sometimes i think
sometimes i believe
that the moon, the moon
it's made of cheese!
all right!
six o'clock = ape o'clock
the Federal Gov't just announced it. from now on, six o'clock is to be known as ape o'clock.
ex.
"half past six"
is now
"half past ape"
Adjust clocks accordingly.
one last dance for sweetness: a love poem
do you know
what my heart says
on the day of love?
i wish i could
i wish...
i want to put my thoughts
into the clouds,
and push them around
so they spell out your name
and shit
good time rap: a rap
rap rap rappin'
rappin' on the streets
rappin' all day
rappin' to the beats
rappin's what we do
every afternoon
havin' lots of fun
and watchin' cartoons!
yeah!
Saturday, May 12, 2007
tame love: a poem
I.
whoa-oh
cadillac lovin'
whoa-oh
youth in love
whoa-oh
kings and love
II.
the time is here
for the elephant show
do you want to go with me?
yes or no
no? okay
okay
i'm just gonna sit maybe
maybe just sit here
watch a nature special or something
maybe think about killing myself
but you have a good time with jake, ok?
no hard feelings
here i go a cloud: a dream poem
in my dream i am a cloud
i do not like when things are loud
everybody here is proud
everybody here is moud
crab legs are 5 smackers a batch
get in line, fuckface
plugging: a poem
plugging
e'r'body plugging
where's my cat?
he's plugging
where's my dog?
he's plugging
thanks
frog-man: a poem
here comes frog-man
look at him go
here comes frog-man
look at him go
there goes frog-man
look at him go
there goes frog-man
look at him go
bye-bye
Friday, May 11, 2007
the song of the goldfisch: a poem
one day
under clouds of ambro'
under clouds, ambro'
we gon'
drank
and shit
listen
listen up
this shit is the real
hell,
i'll even throw in these beach towels
comp'd
'cause you my boy
, q*bert.
You're killin' me, guys. You're killin' me.
Where's that fire. I need that fire. I need my boys here. I need that sweet magic right now. I need that forrealness. Lemme hear y'all say yeah. Lemme hear y'all say hell yeah. I wanna hear the ladies in the back. Y'all ladies. Y'all fellas. C'mon now. C'mon'ow. I need that sweet magic fire.
The Holy Jericho Tompkins
One day, not long ago, a man of healthy age took a long and pleasing bike ride through a dark and winding wood. He eventually came to a stop after seeing a large fallen tree had blocked his path. Disembarking from his bicycle, he said a silent prayer to the Lord and, lo, there appeared before him, as if out of thin air, a stout, burly man with skin of gold.
"Gadzooks!" said the bike-rider, in surprise.
"Behold!" said the glorious golden man. "I am Jericho Tompkins, servant of our Lord, keeper of the faith, defender of the holy, and seeker of the chosen."
"I hope you can assist me, sir," said the bike-rider, still surprised.
"Behold!" said Jericho Tompkins, looking as radiant and as golden as ever. "I have heard your prayer and will help you presently, but first you must agree to a most ominous bargain."
"Whatever you ask, Mr. Tompkins," said the bewildered bike-rider. "Just that you deliver me from my trouble."
"Behold!" said the colossal man of gold as he produced from his massive rucksack a long wooden rod. "This is my magic staff, carved from a mystical disbarked elm tree by the Lord's sacred craftsmen. With it, I shall spirit you to your home, to live safely for all your days."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Tompkins!" cried the bike-rider.
"Behold!" shouted the Holy Jericho Tompkins. "You must still agree on one condition, and one only. I desire a wife for to bear me sons, and I shall take yours in exchange for your ensured well-being."
The bike-rider, at first shocked, decided that he would agree to the deal. In the flicker of an instant, he found himself back in his country cottage. His wife was indeed gone, nowhere to be found, and he would never see her again for the rest of his days. Twenty-six years later, he died of a heart attack in his sleep. His funeral arrangements were handled by the state of South Dakota.
The End.
Farmer Tootlejohn
One day in the heat of March, a soggy hobo drifter decided to rest on a stretch of open field. But lo, after sleeping a few minutes he was abrutly awoken by a hard blow to the head. He looked up to see a herculean figure in stylish overalls holding a rake.
"Say hey!" said the hobo. "Why'd you strike me?"
"My name," said the imposing figure, "is Farmer Tootlejohn, and I'll not have my granpappy's field tainted with the stink of an itinerant drunkard."
"Why, I'm sorry, sir," said the hobo, who was indeed very sorry.
"The Lord may know mercy," said Farmer Tootlejohn, "but I do not."
The hobo drifter, in his final moments before being savagely beaten beyond the point of recovery, thought on his beautiful wife and the children he would never see off to college.
The End.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
birking thompson: a poem
lo birking thompson
how you scale the mountains
how you drink the waters
how you skate the ices
how you struggle and heap
how you fight the evils
lo
Snape kills Dumbledore
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