Category: Daily Doggerel
Jet lag part deux
sleep late arrive late
lose luggage misplace box
no coffee too little sleep
get where you’re going
arriving
late
On occasion of a tired little girl…
Tell me a story. I can’t sleep
* Bruce
Once upon a time there was a little babushka with a tiny green dress… very short.
why did i think you’d be helpful… now keep going.
* Bruce
When Raphael the woodcutter spotted her in the woods gathering herbs and mushrooms he immediately thought of his great Uncle Gus the transvestite
oh my! pins and needles.
* Bruce
Gus was renowned for his Mata Hari impression of Winston Churchill posing nude for Paul Rubens
of course he was…and then?
* Bruce
Raphael immediately took his clothes off, which of course the little babe misconstrued… being a feminist and all. She screamed in high C for approximately 5.39 seconds
big lungs, i suspect.
* Bruce
Unfortunately for her the sustained expulsion of air caused her bosom to swell until the tiny green dress could not longer contain it. This the woodcutter immediately misconstrued… being lusty Russo-Spaniard and all…
damn synthetic fibers.
* Bruce
So Raphael hid his gaze, raised his sword and ran blushing into the woods… which had of course been chopped down earlier… and thus providing little in the way of protecting his dignity.
small dignity, eh,
* Bruce
At that very moment the little baboosh, whose name was Consuela Maria Carmelita Barbara Linda Teena Barberellainski, found a book sitting in a tree
you have to stop! i may laugh to death.
* Bruce
It was a biography of Gus Gustaphon, the famous politician and part time transvestite who had once secretly planted all these trees in order to provide natural fibres so he could hand make a new line of clothing for Alsatian midget bisexuals
did not see that coming.
* Bruce
At this point Teena was waaaaaay more interested in the idea of natural fibres gently sliding up between her thighs than Rafe’s little dignity
the vixen!
* Bruce
The tiny hairs of the woodfibre stocking would caress her with every step. Causing a permanent blush to colour her cheeks and save her hundreds in blush and other makeup related colourants.
practical and kinky.
* Bruce
Rafe of course noticed he was no longer the center of attention. This caused his… attention to be not so rigid. “What HO” he shouted indignantly (as he had little dignity left)
Tee glanced up and saw Rafe’s mighty sword. OMFG she thought. Have you been cutting down all the trees with that?
seriously, stop.
* Bruce
Huh he replied… I don’t use this thing on trees. It’s much too ….big! I use this… he replied whipping out his broad and shiny man axe
How dare you Teen cried as she ran towards him furious. Do you not know about the history of this once mighty and solid wood!
am i old enough to hear the rest?
* Bruce
Why no Rafe replied. Its just that I cum here to visit sometimes and relieve my frustration by swing this axe — and sometimes the sword — around
ah yes, swinging out the frustrations…
* Bruce
Why sir, she said demurely her now naked bosom heaving from the exertion of shouting and running at the same time, this is a sacred wood meant to grow fine hairs and not to be plowed by the likes of you
* Bruce
This very spot was once the garden of the infamous Gus Gustaphason, my long lost true love who lived many years before I was born. He and only he holds the key to my heart, thighs and other unspecified orifices
nicely done.
* Bruce
“Uncle Gus” Rafe exclaimed! He was my genetic identical twin who taught me to swing my first sword in these very woods
me thinks the climax is near
* Bruce
Ah cried Te! So you must stop the raping of these bushes so that they may grow and fulfill his fantasies
bring it home.
* Bruce
But what of my fantasy says Rafe. I dream of growing a crop of hemp here surrounded by a magic mushroom grove where all can live in peace and harmony, away from the troubles of the evil garment industry and their non organic industrial complex!
wow. if he’s into commune lunches, i know a girl for him…
* Bruce
Aaaaah cooed T as she brushed a dogwood twig up and down her thigh, perhaps we can work together to rid the world of synthetics and non-freetrade cotton!
any reason she keeps losing letters along with her inhibitions?
* Bruce
Yes declared Raphael. I will use you to plant my seed. My ultimate destiny is to grow my own version of the modern, well-dressed man and you shall be my instrument of destiny.
oh, that old line.
* Bruce
Aaaaaaah take me t screamed! and Rafe pulled out his mighty pen and immediately had his way with her future. Writing a contract that forever bound her to his stumps and left her chained to his grove
dirty conformists
* Bruce
And with that they had sex, but it was kinda boring, so they went off to join Greenpeace, buy some hemp clothes and forever wonder what could have been if only they had had a good writer like Little Girl or Al or anybody else…
The End
Now you tell it to Al
thanks for indulging me. i will.
* Bruce
Tired yet?
no, but something else just as good: happy. g’night to you.
* Bruce
ummmm I hope not happy like Tee… Ciao for now
Little Girl is offline.
Untitled
People think and then they talk
A disconnect, a drunken walk
I think the best or think the worst
I believe whichever thought came first
It’s not fair, nor right, nor well
But if I can’t read minds then what the hell.
And if you think this verse’s for you,
It’s not you know, it’s about what I do.
Crowding…
A truly bad poem written in La Guardia Airport
Never been a positive
The prairie vista’s lack the trees
Boreal pressure creates illusions
The view from the mountain top
Always seems the apex
Enforces human interaction
As Birnham Wood approaches
The critical moment crowds near
Life is a collective, a system
Many uncontrolled parts
Is a social stabilizer
Chaos is not a border, nor a choice
The tree line divides but connects
Social systems continually evolve
She is my brother, in my space
pedro the lion is no name for a band
Courtesy of a Facebook exchange with A
pedro the lion is so a puppet…Totally happy until he gets into the fermented gazelle blood and banana margaritas, and then he’s like so all over the chimps for being too bossy and gnawing on the giraffes cause they’re so uppity. And then Chiquita the lioness comes home and chews his ass out and he’s so “oh yah!” and then the neighbours complain and the warthog cops come and he’s gets his butt thrown in jail until Chiquita bails him out so apologetic-like, but you know she just wants something and then the stupid cubs tell him they wrecked his favorite bone and he smashes ’em one but then totally regrets it and the cheetahs rat him out so they take the cubs away and his boss finds out and he’s booted from the pride and …well…you know.
I really feel for poor Pedro…sigh
A New Feature…
Pop lyrics in 2 minutes or less… Go!
I’m not old but my best friend is,
His mini van is full of kids.
I love to rock, he tends bowl,
I’m not old but my best friend is,
Turn it up, crank that sound,
I still want the baddest stereo around.
Don’t give me no blues, no jazz, no soul.
Just good old fashioned loud rock and roll.
Don’t let me worry about bills or politicians.
Don’t confuse my life with some god-filled mission.
My friend he thinks that kids need to be mastered,
but I still remember him totally fu’ in plastered.
I’m not old but my best friend is,
His life is filled by doin biz.
I wanna kick back, he’s worried about taxes ,
I’m not old but my best friend is.
I’m still checkin’ out both old and young ‘uns,
His old lady’s nagging to pick up wheat buns.
I just p’wned his kids at Legendary Halo
while he cracked a brew and reminisced about Mario.
I’ve got plans to escape the mob,
screw the boss and fuck the job.
He wants a review and a salary hike,
so he can afford his mid life crisis, Harley bike.
I’m not old but my best friend is,
He’s planning for tomorrow, whenever that is
I’m thinking if I use that cash, a new guitar will kick fu’ in ass.
I’m not old but my best friend is.
I’m not old but my best friend is.
I stopped counting at 20 cause life just is.
I’m not old but my best friend is.
He’s always got point and it’s always his.
I’m not old but my best friend is.
Maybe tomorrow, or another time that is.
copyright B Timothy Keith
Ok so it took more like 6 minutes…I’m still perfecting the system…
Trinity
Three fates
Three gods
Three states
Three sods
Two days
Two nights
Two ways
Two sights
Write a poem, write a novel
About three things
Await return, await the quorum
Two is not enough
On occasion of being incomplete
Other people…
Other people make me happy.
Other people bother me.
Other people are loud.
Other people make things easier.
Other people ruin things.
Other people solve my problems.
Other people support me.
Other people get in the way.
Sometimes other people drive me crazy.
I really couldn’t be alone.
By request
communication
2 way
transmission
word play
determination
you say?
affiliation
my way
aggravation
new grey
resignation
today
Daily Doggerel Gets Its First Review!
Oscar knows me well…
A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets make a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise.
—Oscar Wilde — The Picture of Dorian Grey
I prefer underdeveloped to inferior but other than that…