HNN Poems 

 

Lucke and I wrote these poems a while back during a fit of artistry the likes of which the world has not seen. I hope they make you sick with sorrow, or longing, or the clap, or whatever. - Taylor

 

Anteaters

by T.G.

 

Anteaters have it good-

Crazy Bastard lives outdoors,

eats all day has a big nose,

No worries only ants and termites and Mud.

Anteaters have it good.

 

Flazum opus 1

by M.L.

Look at the Man.

Fat, Fat Man.

Taste the Man.

Fat, Fat Man.

Be the Fat Man, Man.

 

Flazum opus 2

by M.L.

 

Go Away!

The ship draws near

as the sun reaks on.

Run Away!

screams the sheperd

as the sun reaks on.

Look out!

Lady Lockling shares

as the sun reaks on.

Flip Flazum!

Dancing Bears don't need security

'cause the sun is gone

 

Elegy.

by T.G.

 

It sucks

that George Burns

is dead.

 

An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding

by T.G.

 

 

What the Hell is that over there?

What the Hell is that over there?

I forgot my glasses.

I can't see too good.

 

What the Hell did you just say?

What the Hell did you just say?

Speak up please.

I'm hard of hearing.

 

What the Hell is that smell?

What the Hell is that smell?

Stand back.

And wipe your butt next time.

 

What the Hell is going on here?

What the Hell is going on here?

There's a Blood-sucking Zit Eater with a big fat bladder full of Questing Beast fumits attached to the wall.

Go get the shotgun!

 

Where the Hell am I?

Where the Hell am I?

And Why can't I get out of this electric chair?

Stand back while they cleanse my soul.

 

What the Hell is that over there?

What the Hell is that over there?

It's not what you think, man.

Go buy some glasses.

 

Flazum opus 4

by M.L.

 

 undone...

undone...

undone...

my life is undone.

untouched...

untouched...

untouched...

my Jimmy is untouched.

undone, untouched, unthankful, unthinkable,

unobtrusive, unerasable, ungrown.

Now, let me talk about growing.

 

Blue moon wants more salad

more salad for blue moon.

Too much, man, too much.

Blue Moon want's salad.

But Who want's Blue Moon?

 

Red cloud screams.

Aaah! screams Red cloud.

Too much, man too much.

Red cloud screams.

But who hears it?

 

I am Blue moon and Red cloud.

But who am I?

 

 

Licker

by T.G.

 

If I could Lick the Sky

I bet it would taste like cherries.

I would like a Banana Split with extra

Sky Cherries, please.