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Joined: 6/3/2004
Msg: 26
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry ThreadPage 2 of 246    (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41)
"I haven't quite gotten the hang of poetical punctuation, but I still have fun with it."

Looks really good.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 27
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/19/2004 8:26:40 PM
Thanks guys for the kind words. That Uday and Ramakanth are a funny Bert and Ernie, Oscar and Felix -- Archie and Edith? I wonder if they *are* the same person?

Well, this was a helluva day -- paddling, biking, drinking beer and looking and the scenery. I was aroused on so many levels today. And I have to go back tomorrow morning and do it all over again. So, here's one for Sunday because I won't be here tomorrow to post it. A haiku pour vous:


Breasts jiggling, barely
Contained by thin cotton shirts
Arouses me lots.


Hey, don't expect art every time. I was inspired by all the eye candy this fine day. Too many beers and too much exertion has taxed me.

See you Monday.
Joined: 6/3/2004
Msg: 28
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/19/2004 9:08:25 PM
Short & Sweet. Enjoy your weeekend.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 29
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/21/2004 9:23:04 AM
Hmm....been busy here while I wandered away. What a weekend! I had to come back to work just to get a rest -- good, old sedentary desk job that it is. I see there's been some kind folk here checking up on me.

Ramakanth: My autograph wouldn't be worth much and you'd have to come a long way to get it. I do appreciate your appreciation...if that makes sense. *Checks to make sure Uday isn't right behind him*

Melina: If you captured my heart any more you'd have to domesticate it. Thank you.

Ticketoride: It was a great weekend, thanks. How was yours? Adventurous? Educational?

Well, this weekend's events inspired me, as you probably guessed. This is a longer poem (dangerously close to being a full ode, really) about the race I competed in. We didn't win, but we did allright. Here is the first of three parts:


Mis-timed in Brown Water

Now moving a dragon boat
Takes more than this old goat
Can muster in a given day.
Fortunately the beer
Helped us to steer
And get us under way.

The audience gathered huge;
And amongst the deluge,
Our squat dragon boats sat in wait.
We prayed to not come last;
To fates we cast
Our hopes to become great.

*First Race*

Four boats started the first heat;
To the line we did meet.
"Crew! Paddles up!" Came the command.
We attacked the water
As good as we oughter
At least we hit no land.

We did come in last of course
Like the raggiest horse
Though it was a close race we ran.
According to mentors
We weren't centred
To the left we did pan.

"Our timing was a bit off,"
Our fearless leader scoffed
We didn't listen to his count.
To the drum we did listen,
Not his rythym;
That oddly offbeat fount.

The next race was hours away
The bands began to play
The beer tent was open at last.
Have a brew, tap our feet;
We'd get some eats.
Calories make us fast.


Part 2 is tomorrow -- the second race. Stay tuned.
Joined: 6/3/2004
Msg: 30
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/21/2004 1:00:44 PM
"How was yours? Adventurous? Educational?"

Tops as always.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 31
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/22/2004 9:36:30 AM
Mornin' all. I've had visitors! Hi Melina! My God, but your words are lovely and they put my balladeering to shame. I appreciate what you said and I appreciate you. You're still the artist of the forum.

Here's the second part of Mis-timed in Brown Water. I know you've been itching for it. Me? I've simply been itching, but I have a cream for that. Onward:


Mis-timed in Brown Water - Act II

This next race was far better,
Though we finished wetter
And definitely not dead last.
We barrelled straight ahead,
Felt nearly dead;
Our prior time we passed.

None of us looked up to know
How we placed in the show.
The Survivors of Breast Cancer
Paddled slow, without fear
Brought up the rear
And gave us the answer.

Now you might think it is cruel
To celebrate that coup,
But we were simply elated.
So tired of the past
And finishing last.
On our nerves, it grated.

Our time was respectable;
(Quite unintentional)
We were in the heart of the pack.
We hauled ourselves upright,
Feeling no slight.
There was no looking back

To the beer tent we did stride,
Almost bursting with pride;
The next races were far away.
We opted for some suds,
Hung out with buds;
The fates would have their say.


Tomorrow, the conclusion.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 32
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/23/2004 9:15:11 AM
Why thanks, Chuck. I've been reading your poems as well. Yours are like fine Irish whiskey compared to my Billy Beer. And I think Melina is kinda sweet on you....

Well, here's the conclusion to Mis-timed in Brown Water. After getting halfway through it, I realized how much can one say about 18 people attempting to row a heavy boat in unison? Not a lot, really....if things go as planned. I've found not much goes to plan. we go:


*Third Race*

This race is hard to describe
And it shatters my pride
When I look back upon it now.
We struggled to compete
And still were beat;
But we were so weighed down.

A member had the bright ken
To bring five trucking men
An effort to increase our odds.
Our chances rested
On men untested
And their muscular bods.

We formed our line, jackets donned.
To the dock we were gone,
Prepared for an excellent run.
How the boat would receive,
We didn't conceive,
The rough weight of a ton.

I felt like a real dink
But I thought we would sink
As water flowed onto the floor.
The truckers stopped pallin';
There were gallons
For each man and woman aboard.

We realized after time,
If we turned on a dime
Into the river we would go.
We ambled to the line,
Taking our time;
Extra weight made us slow.

We did line up our drummers
Which was a small bummer
Because the other boats moved so quick.
From the dock on the shore
Sounded a horn;
I felt I would be sick.

We did have weight to spare,
But the fates didn't care;
We did also have strength and speed.
We thought that the quick wind
Would leave us pinned
Between buoys 1 and 3.

But defeated we were not
And our curious lot
Dug at the murky brown river.
When our timing was on
The boat was gone --
"C'mon, mates. Let's givver!!"

From last place, we surged ahead
No longer feeling dread;
Once focused, we were united.
But halfway through the race,
We lost our pace;
Our fear re-ignited.

The water was ankle-high
And continued to rise;
It distracted us from our goal.
Only metres to go,
We all did know
We'd likely swamp the boat.

They were very close races;
The wind slowed our paces;
It was tough and brutal all 'round.
It was hard to compete
And then defeat
Fury, thunder and sound.

We finished in average
And questing beverage
We walked to the tents that were near.
Though we all felt back pain
We didn't complain
Trusting the healing beer.


Hell, yeah I'd do it again next year. There may even be another one this July, but that depends on the rest of the team. If you ever get the chance to go on a dragon-boat team, do it. It's a blast.

Okey-dokey-pokey...I'll be back tomorrow.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 33
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/23/2004 11:33:46 PM
It was a gripping yarn, wasn't it? You can tell me if it made you moist...I won't tell anyone.

This next one was going to be saved for the morning, but it looks like tomorrow will be a bit on the busy side. It's fairly short and was inspired by the total wad of crap that was on TV for most of the week. Did I mention I hate reality shows? Prank shows? And almost any show with Ashton Kutcher.

Here we go:


I don't like Ashton Kutcher
And I don't like Punk'd
If I were to meet him
I'd kick him in the Junk'd


It ain't art, but it speaks to me.

Later, then.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 34
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/24/2004 5:16:56 PM
You created too many threads -- according to who? Birdman? Admin? You couldn't possibly be as prolific as Evilcuppycake was...she posted up a storm before she packed up and headed out of Dodge like a perfumed hay-devil. She was kinda cute, though, but too young and not interesting enough to capture this goat.

Yeah, sure, you can post here. Be aware that your stuff might be buried by the sheer weight of all my half-assed poems. I make 'em fresh every day, more if I'm rested. I would consider setting up your own poetry thread if I were you, though. You know, a little corner for your thoughts and rythmic opinions. That's what I did.

And your poem was good. I'm not much of a poet, so I can't deliver much of a critque for you. I think you're doing fine.

Nothing new now. The day was too hot and too long. Tomorrow...tomorrow....
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 35
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/24/2004 8:54:50 PM
Ooohhhh...I geddit.

Dude, put your stuff in one pile and that way it doesn't get lost. Works for me. And here I thought the Hammer of God had smote him. Or is that smitten? Smotted? Smerged? Hmm.....
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 36
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/24/2004 8:57:50 PM
Ah, thanks. I was beginning to think it was "smat" or something. My Olde Worlde Englishe Dictionarie is missing.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 37
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/24/2004 9:06:27 PM
Oh. My. God.

You read it *all*?

Are you feeling okay? Do you need to lie down. show me on the dolly where it touched you...

(That's my weird way of saying: "Thanks, eh?")
Joined: 6/3/2004
Msg: 38
Re: (GoatSmell) GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/25/2004 4:25:41 AM
Do you think I have potential?

I got up.
Took a shit.
Fed my pup.
Smoked a bit.

Ate some chips.
Heard a peep.
Read some tips.
Went back to sleep.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 39
Re: (GoatSmell) GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/25/2004 8:24:30 AM

Ticket! It ain't art, but I like it. It rhymes and that counts for a whole lot. A poetry analyst might say it's a small slice of an intimate moment of being a man. Or they would gasp at it. I'm not sure, really.

Well, here's another one I'm going to make up as I go along. All I have in my head is the phrase "moose turd pie". Credit goes to Montanaman for the divine inspiration, so blame him:

I never tried a moose turd pie
I think I’d have to fight the flies
Pick out the bits of hay
Chunks of clay
What the hey?
A pair of owl eyes!
I won't ask how
All this was on the ground
I consider myself lucky I found
This here pie, covered in flies
If I eat it, I may die
Or get horrible gas
Seeping from my ass
Yet there's something alluring
About a moose turd pie
Don't know why...
Hey! I'm slurring!


KerPOW! Rapid fire poetry! Beware Ginsberg....I'm coming after you...

Tomorrow, then.
Joined: 6/3/2004
Msg: 40
Re: (GoatSmell/Birdman) GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/25/2004 10:07:29 PM
"short and to the point. i like it. / It ain't art, but I like it."

Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 41
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/26/2004 11:19:23 AM
Afternoon. Got busy and missed the morning post. Here it is, but it sucks:


Prelude to Separation

I'm a big man, look what I can do
I can feed and dress myself too

I killed three big bags of chips
And a tub of warm Cool-Whip

My face is covered in zits
My big boy pants don't fit

I'm a B-cup now!


Oh, that was ugly. That's what I get for writing on only one cup of coffee. Yuk-poo.

Tomorrow, then.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 42
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/27/2004 8:06:00 AM
Sunday morning haiku time. I'm going coffee-less right now, so bear with me:


The coffee is brewed
It sits on the counter-top
Far away from me


Yeah, I'm tired. Until Monday, then.
Joined: 6/27/2004
Msg: 43
Re: (GoatSmell) GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/27/2004 8:22:16 PM
You make me laugh! It sure rhymes and reading it certainly is worth my time!
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 44
Re: (GoatSmell) GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/27/2004 8:38:53 PM
Bird! You inspired me, crime or not. (Special thanks to Melina and her coffee)


The Wreck of the SS GoatSmell

The goat is off his feed again
His gut is making noises
He’s retreated to his den
Consumed with all those poisons

He knew shouldn’t have eaten
That yellow tallow-like stuff
He knew he was beaten
He knew he had enough

But he kept on munching
His eyes dim and bleary
Kept right on lunching
Body becoming weary

A small stone of dense crap
Sank to the deep depths
Below his ample lap
Yellow stuff is his death

Coffee is a powerful laxative
With pie a la mode
He discovered purely by accident
As his colon began to explode

The universe opened a tiny crack
And light began to pour in
He almost threw out his back
On the throne of colonic sin

Purged of the foul evil
He emerged from the john
Feeling like a bo-weevil
The sick feeling was gone

Beware of the stuff in bird’s fridge
Be cautious of yellow chunks
It’ll throw you off a tidge
It will render you into junk


Am I back on my feet again? Maybe, maybe not.

Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 45
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/28/2004 9:39:01 AM
Mornin' all. Forgive me if I break out of character for a moment here. Yesterday, I learned a friend of mine will be leaving for Winnipeg in a month or so. Last night, we took a walk and did some talking. One good night's sleep and some good strong coffee (Melina continues to inspire me), I created this just this morning:


One Dark Night

O look up, look up and see
The universal music that is be
With old stars growling and singing
Ancient light continuously flinging
Across the cold vacuum of space

O, do look up and see
Come, stand here next to me
The city lights, hot phosphorescent
Hiding the divine incandescence
But you can still see it has grace

O, please look up and see
Where there were one, now are three
With one star falling, then another
Dropping like warrior brothers
Burning alive to save face

O, you must look up and see
Realize what you mean to me
Here we stand, frightened and small
Too tiny to feel universal awe
Understanding this is our place

Look up and see.


I'll be back to my old self tomorrow. When I was leaving for work this morning, I saw my half-naked neighbour mowing his lawn. Needless to say, that shoved me back into character pretty darned quick. I'll stick it here tomorrow.

Hi matahari! I'll bet you thought I didn't notice you before. Welcome to the jungle.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 46
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/29/2004 7:34:01 AM
Mornin' all. Back to my old self. Like I said yesterday, this one was written right after divine inspiration struck me. Well, after divine inspiration and several cups of good ol' coffee. So, in all it's glory:


Big Shirtless Joe

Big Shirtless Joe is mowing his lawn
Never mind it's 7 in the morning
Never mind it's not warm yet
Never mind most sane working people
Are asleep, resting for the day

Big, shirtless Joe wrestles his Craftsman mower
Like a flabby version of El Pinto Grande
Like an elephant struggling through a swamp
Like a middle aged woman at a white sale
Hunting for bargains, stepping on the innocent

Big Shirtless Joe never wears a shirt
Unless he's going to the buffet
Unless he's going to a wedding or a funeral
Unless he's going to take it off
And expose his sculptured-out-of-mashed-potatoes body.

Big Shirtless Joe plays to his audience of few
Like the old lady in the window across the street
Like the mail carrier who has seen too much already
Like the paperboy daily traumatized
And will no longer eat fast food

Big Shirtless Joe is like a fixture here
Never mind he's bringing down the property values
Never mind he's made women cry and children stop breathing
Never mind he mows that damned lawn
Three times a bloody day.


Who says all poems have to rhyme? Your English teacher? He's a knob. Tell him I said so.

Until tomorrow....

Joined: 6/20/2004
Msg: 47
view profile
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/29/2004 5:58:58 PM
Aww, but Professor GoatSmell, I could never call you a knob. I'd lose points this semester.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 48
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/30/2004 8:35:16 AM
Mornin'. Another day, another poem.

MasterBart...I'm your English prof? I'm all at once honoured and horrified to learn this. I am a knob, evermore. Feast your eyes upon this travesty, as an example:


A Goat’s Breakfast

As I rise, the hunger grows
From the top of my head
To my goaty toes
Vittles, I must have!
And loudly I do complain
For something to fill the hole
And hide the pain
A 5-pound bag of oatmeal
A jar of old mustard
Three cake mixes
A box of powdered custard
Lugnuts and hockey pads
Last week’s newspapers
Slippers that were my Dad’s
Kleenex, Swiffer pads and toilet paper
Old toothpaste, a jar of capers
Pickled herring and lobster guts
A half can of salted nuts
Coffee completes the dance
I leave for work and forgot my pants.


I heard rumours that ee cummings suffered from horrible gas and lived alone. My sources may be inaccurate, MasterBart. A quatloo is a form of currency familiar to old-school Star Trek fans (Star Trek TOS - The Gamesters of Triskellion. Yes I do know the episode. I know I'm a dork, thanks.)
Joined: 6/20/2004
Msg: 49
view profile
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/30/2004 7:30:33 PM
TY...just as I thought I'd figured out you meant "qualudes." Beautiful work here, your last one reminds me a tad of Shel Silverstein's style.
Joined: 5/27/2004
Msg: 50
Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/30/2004 10:19:01 PM
Shel Silberstein....oh yeah, I guess it is kinda like his stuff. Interesting style he has...forgot about him until you mentioned him just then. I was thinking of Theodore Dreisel when that previous poem was in my head.

Thanks for the compliment, though my poetry is pretty nasty stuff I thinks.

Well, since I'll be away from here for a few days, I'd getter get one in now. This one will be an act of improvisation:


A four-day weekend lies ahead
Four days of beer with no head
Four days of sleeping late in bed
Four days -- no work, no dread

Hot weather and good times
Four days of secretly composing rhymes
Four days of fun with dimes
Four days -- tequila, no limes

Too much food and BBQ's galore
Four days of acting like a food-whore
Four days of being a crashing bore
Four days -- too much, no more

I'll have to rest up while working
After four days of constant shirking
After four days of constant irking
After four days -- posting, not lurking


Have a good weekend, peoples! See you Sunday!
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