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Procrastination's other deedsNO! PROCRASTINATION!
A puzzle poem of sorts by Orlando Mee
Begone all you olden day values,
Decide your path by throwing darts at a porcupine.
Begone all those of you who harbour thoughts
Of shipping ports
And who think boiling the kettle
Would be their cup of tea.
We have no use for shipyard and Englishmen,
Humorous though they may be.
Once upon a time,
A fish was called Procrastination.
When geese were still to have theirs cooked
And dung beetles gave dirty looks,
This fish existed, making hooks,
To use across the nation.
He was a savvy fish, this one
He'd only swap his hooks for guns
Guns were the payment, he'd take no other.
And when the fishermen came by,
To swap their revolvers for new flies,
Procrastination took their guns
And shot them in the eyes.
And so it was, Procrastination
Saved all fish across the nation
By killing those dedicated to fish obliteration
When they visited for hook purchasation.
Red as flaming ochre and quick as an Irishman's tounge,
The guitar flashed and c
Fig Whisky -part 1-Several monkeys,
and five gallons of finest scotch whisky
shook hands in the basement
of the hotel d'hotels,
the fabulous Overhang Risky
The figs were brought in
in the luggage of Djinn,
David Djinn, an arabic fig magnate,
Who was there at the Risky
to sample the whisky
Of whiskyman Johnny MacStagnate
While David and Johnny
went up to the roof,
where an expensive party was at,
their luggage went down,
one floor underground,
to be brought when the need they begat.
The monkeys were there
on an unfortunate coincidence,
involving an exploding circus tent, a cannon, animal rights activists,
and several other things that dont rhyme.
The point is, they drank the whisky and ate the figs,
And then, for the riot, it was time.
The monkeys poured out
of the basement trapdoor
like the liquor that they had just drunk.
they bludgeoned the bellboys
with smart, square suitcases
then onto the scene jumped a punk.
His nose it was pierced
In five different places,
His mohawk it bristled out
-7- LAND HOOn the three rowed
As day and night passed
They got frequently drunk
And about they arsed
But one day came the fateful cry
"LAND HO! I SEE'S IT WITH ME GOOD EYE!"
We know a guy that doesn't have eyes.
Argh? And how does the lad see?
He doesn't. His name is L.D.E.
Argh? L. D. E.? What kind of a name does that name be?
Well, it used to be Clide, until he lost his I's,
and as a result, he could no longer C.
The remaining letters made him L.D.E.
A chilling tale indeed.
But enough lollygaggin'! We sighted land not two stanzas ago!
And the only way we can get there is if we sing a proper sea chanty!
Argh, mateys, it be the only way ye'll learn.
And a one and a two and a three and four
SAILED LONG AND FAR A-CROSS, THE, SEAS,
WEATHERING THE COLD-SALT-OC, EAN, BREEZE,
FOUGHT MA-HA-A-NY A PI, RATE, SKEEZE,
SEARCHING FOR THE LOOT OF JOE.
HAR-POON-EDD MARAUDING SEA, SER, PENTS
HALF OF WHAT WE DID DID NOT, MAKE, SENSE, FOR
SOME REASON WE BOUGHT A LOT, OF, TENTS
HUNTING FOR T
-6- Poetry, anyone?For years and years
I've worn a frown
The fashion came and went
But I was far too far from town
And all my cash was spent
So there was really no reason to go out and buy the 'new look'
Now that phrase has always perplexed me.
Surely the only way to get a 'new look' is to buy new eyes
WHICH I REALLY NEED TO DO FOR I HAVE LOST THEM!
Ah, the wanker's back again!
From the oceans rivers stem
From the stem a flower grows
From the flower pollen goes
From the flower to your nose
What for? You haven't any eyes to drop!
Actually I'm not QUITE sure thats the way they work
Call the clerk
That turkey is a Turk
Gobble gobble gobble
That turkey is a jerk.
Turkey Jerky, anyone?
You monster! It was just an innocent turkey!
Gobble gobble gobble
Hey! the turkey's eating the jerky!
Oh, so you didn't kill it. Guess you're not a monster after all.
Then what's the jerky made from?
Well, lets just say I wouldn't try to wal
-5- Body not the mindSeven swarthy Socratese
Standing in a row
Shoot one down
Do the others even exist?
Socrates had a foolproof method
For working out if an idea was a good idea
Take your idea
Think about if there are any cases in which the idea won't work-
If there are any holes in your idea
Basically, think about WHETHER OR NOT IT IS FOOLPROOF.
In that case, Socrates thereby proves your idea TO BE FOOLPROOF.
But Benedict Thanksrabbit, a much BETTER philosopher,
has his own theory of ideas.
Take your idea
Think about if there are any holes in it blah blah blah
You have not thought hard enough.
Your idea may actually be foolproof,
But if so it is mere coincidence
And anyway I already thought of it years ago.
-4- A poem by ProcrastinationMany fish do their days work in a little orange pond named Chelsea.
Now it just so happened that one of these fish worked for a paper manufacturer
in a tiny stone clock, which hardly needed it at all.
So this fish, his name was Procrastination, quit his nowhere job and started
writing poetry. He wasn't very good at it.
Very soon, Procrastination became human, and turned this poem into a song.
It went something, like this...
ELBOWS IN THE PASTY OF SHAME
Ah-well, Bee likes florida
getting hoozy with the sunday on the
"tomorrow flip ya up, man", he said.
So he did and good fry
the second it wasn't corn
I said to business what a jau-hau-nty
(yell) ELLL-BOWS in the pasty of shame!
Ah-well, shame on you!
Forgot the whippersnappers
with hoo-py froods in tow
Got the see when the monday flaaaahhhhw-ers,
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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