jeffrey_the_poets_wonderful_world_of_poetry Jeffrey the Poet Lie in You banged your head On the top of the bed And said a word I'd never heard "Fucenbolluxwankinturd" we decided to stay in bed all day we got so bored we tried to record The way We snored 010808 ... Jeffrey the Poet Freudian Slipknot As I tiptoe through the ruins of our house I find The plate you didn't smash The shirt you didn't tear The hamster that the vet might save The dollar that you left me The corner of our bed you didn't piss on And I smile to know You left these things for me Because you love me 010808 ... Jeffrey the Poet The flowers in my garden are plumping up their sex parts and horny bees dart through the trees mixing up the juices There's an orgy in my garden that I'm much too big to join but that's OK I'm glad to say because I like to watch. 010808 ... Jeffrey the Poet Nature Poem A wasp can fly between the raindrops in a thunderstorm And they tell me I can kiss you A frog can catch a million flies a day And they tell me I can kiss you A cat can eat a thousand frogs and still be home in time for tea And they tell me I can kiss you But the cats, the frogs and the flies are looking so I can't 010808 ... Jeffrey the Poet Guess who? Creeping up behind you and covering your eyes with fingers that I know you know so well Is not as much fun as it used to be the first week that we shared this prison cell. 010808 ... Dafremen (sniff..sob)Moving, soul-searing. Your words have touched me as even my own fingers could not have but have longed to. 010808 ... DannyH Thankyou. My talent is both my blessing and my curse. 010808 ... DannyH Shit. Another alias exposed. I really didn't want to own up to this one. 010808 ... Dafremen In that case I won't even get into how many people are ACTUALLY having tea over at that other blather which shall remain nameless. 010808 ... DannyH Well hey, this wouldn't be wonderland without a tea party. There just weren't enough people around to keep me amused so I had to invent one. I should come clean. I am all the other blatherers. there's only ever been me and you here. 010808 ... Dafremen Well...um speaking of which I'm afraid there's something that I've been meaning to tell you. You see, there's really only just you Danny. 010808 ... suck my dick 010808 ... Jeffrey the Poet It would truly be an honour to perform fellatio on such an eloquent fellow poet. 010809 ... suck my calling yourself a poet simply shows that you don't know what the fuck you're talking about 010809 ... DannyH Oh you got that joke did you? Well done, sweetheart. Jesus, I'm not usually a bitch but some people need some tuning. 010809 ... suck my knob 010809 ... Dafremen Weeelll! Looks like the 9 and under crowd FINALLY made it's way to blather. You can always tell yer typical elementary schooler by their "poke" method of exploring limits. The novelty of anonymity hasn't been lost on these young twits who use it as a stuffed chair to hide behind as they engage in their "poke the people with a stick" antics.(Not to detract from black-dyed gel product's style, which is the result of having refined and matured such an approach over the course of decades.) Welcome little one...blather needed a representative from the "Britney set". (Sits back, cracks open a bottle o' Bobby Dazzler Lager and hands it to DannyH, gesturing for him to watch the fun as the youngun responds as expected.) 010810 ... Teenage Jesus Hey, I wanna watch to. Lemme see if I can get `em riled up a little more... "you're a stupid head, you stupid head." Is it really so important that you wear your hat backwards and utter the word bi-yatch at every opportunity? That ought to do it- Aw heck; we've probably scared it now... 010810 ... kingsuperspecial Did I hear “ tea party “? Kick ass! :: pulls up a mushroom, grabs the hooka away from the caterpilly :: damn drafreman, you must get tired of hitting the nail so square on the head. the down side of the nine or under crowd is you have to insult them on their own level, which is, well, it's juevinle, right? otherwise, you're just running circles around them. BDGP has got a lot of sense in his poke style, the lads coming along nicely. He hasn’t fully adopted the “run in screaming, set yourself on fire, shit on their forehead, and sing Old McDonald” method that some of my blather_heroes have perfected…but we all have to have our nitch, right? ( :: covers forehead, watching for baby satan behind his back :: ) That reminds me, I've been working on my own "poke" method these days. Of course, now that I'm older it's, ah, well, let’s say it's 'evolved' a bit. :: winks at the ladies :: heh heh. someone gimme a scone, ferchrissakes. 010810 ... kingsuperspecial juvenile... ferchrissakes 010810 ... Dafremen Scones! Hurrah! (Yes it does get tiresome after awhile KSS, but hey, we all have our crosses to bear. Mine is sort of like being forced to SELL free gold bricks. "Here's some good advice..take it! It's FREE." "Huh? I'm sorry pal, but if you want me to take that advice you're going to have to sell me on the idea first." "But there's nothing in it for me except a chance to help you." "Yea ok, whatever." "Sigh.") 010810 ... kingsuperspecial my, that does seem like quite a weighty cross to bear. it's probably almost as heavy as that giant, swollen head of yours... hey, I could use a free gold brick. how much you asking for them? :: munching scone :: 010827 ... sykoze and i ran and i ran and i ran and the blue rag of misfortune kept throwing itself in my way, tripping me, flying through the air, up up up the fridge lies dormant and i wonder where you are, wrapped up in your fluffy down parka lighting up in a dark parking lot the middle of some shitty-ass suburban mall, sucking in all the commercialism alon gwith t hesc ent o fment hol ated cigs. Poetry sucks but so do I 010828 ... Jeffrey the Poet The Great procrastinator While I'm lazing, dazing, grazing slowly on my memories bobbing on a tide of dreams that never see the light of day I can see the driven people driving up and down the street pushing people out the way demanding things of those they meet. How I'd like to take their hands and shove them in a liquidizer scoop out the contents of their skulls and mash their brains till I'm the wiser bleed out all their lust for life and put some jelly in their heads but I don't have the time right now so I shall go to bed instead. 010906 ... Jeffrey the Poet I'm scared to step outside my door I'm the other kind of poor The one with colder music and cheaper shoes I've got those too white to live in the neighbourhood I can afford blues. 010907 ... Jeffrey the Poet Meaty chunks On metal hooks I carry to suspicious looks I look I hook I read a book When I get home I like to cook. 011108 ... Dafremen Took me awhile to get in the front entrance. Jeffery did you NEED to have the door made so narrow? Had to grease my head up with lard to get it in here. Anyhow, flippo asked me to leave this letter here for you, but made me promise not to read it. Said you'd understand: Dearest Jeffery, Poet Unparallelled, How I do miss our long chats down by the lakeside. Remember your diatribe on the fellating of crippled emus? I laughed for hours that day, and would have laughed for hours more, if you hadn't accidentally stabbed me in the ribs with your swizzle stick. Where have all of those lazy, breezy days gone, old friend? Has the summer of our collective youths gone by, leaving only flatulent, sour old men where once, young, would-be heroes sat, eating cheesy popcorn and downing Jaegermeister shots? OH, the comeradery! (Oh the nights filled with jogs to the crapper!) How I long for those days again, querido compadre! How I do pine to see again the sight of two fearless, swaggering chums crossing streams in a pissing duel, with the entire Falstaff marching band looking on (unbeknownst to us, of course! Remember?) Perhaps, if there IS a God in heaven, he would fain allow our paths and our piss to cross again. It would bring a smile to this sour, flatulent old heart. Truly, Flippo 021008 ... Jeffrey the Poet You can kill yourself with concrete. You can break your legs with pins. You can tell the way a parachute Will rise by how it spins. You can make yourself important. You can write about the rich. You can fly into a blazing rage and call your wife a bitch. You can fall into a scissor kick Or make your grandma’s brother sick Or fly around in Lenin’s dick Or fingerfuck arithmetic. But it won’t make you happy. Believe me I know. I’ve tried. 030318 ... cut_and_paste Jeez. Just what the world needs - another penniless poet. 030319 ... Jeffrey the poet I feel a poem coming on not that you care with your jokes about vogon_poetry I'm not even sure you understand the pain the always always pain that is the_constant_gardener to my lack of emptiness. 050916 what's it to you? who go blather from