Crunch Crunch Crunch

“Decewmbewr Sevow, 1997”

John Lennon croons in my ears ironically whilst little pictures play about the video screen: the starting strains of “The Lost World.” That is all I have to say right now.

Brynn: Well, I HAVE something to say DAMMIT! RORWR! “The Lost World” is an abysmal horrible stupid movie, & Jeff Goldblum’s sardonic self-depreciation is its sole merit. I frown.

Brynn only likes artly moves, so there!

Brynn: Yeah, like “Desperately Seeking Susan.”

Yeah! Squish the little bastard until it is juicy and emits little squeaks!

Brynn: I draw hands not. Bob needs to be drunk again.

The “I want Tea” Page.

Brynn:

What, oh _what_, is my greater wish?
A hot cup o' tea, or a littlest squish?
Scones and jam!
Crumpets!
And sandwiches small!
A glass for our wine and a good time for all!
Bob chews his nails in a trés hungry tic
I plot for a prance to the bathroom, quite quick!

Lumpy, soft and does smell like spice
Milky, sweet but won't repel lice
No biscuits, gravy
Or McGreasy ick
For me to slurp and gargle and lick
My nails are bloody and stink of pus
So give me my tea so I will not fuss

Poetry sucks. Poets should be cut into small pieces and fed to little starving children who prefer oreos. One could even spread cream filling between their skin and their puny, feeble bones and crunch, crunch, crunch away. It is too easy to be trapped into introspection and creating overwrought soliloquies of unrhymed emotive dribble. There is that line which is difficult to discover, the Rubicon for the brave. This is why the “poetry” that graces the stupid metro busses in Seattle strikes me as very fake, pretentious and annoying. I like either silly, smiley light hearted verse as above or well thought out phrases which aren’t written to impress, but to address. I bitch and moan. Loyal would call me negative and say that he didn’t want to be around it - that he didn’t need it. He is a poor, closed minded fool in this respect. My opinion, of course.

Brynn: Um, I still want tea … tea like the widow’s love-wrought tears as she whispers, WHISPERS, against the tumultuous surface of the lover’s green ocean. Ohhhh.

I love my nut because she is so sarcastic. :) Oh, nut.

Brynn: Oh NUT! No, nut!