Have you ever heard of Ken Nordine?
He’s a famous voiceover artist.
Oh, and he did a bunch of albums and recordings called Word Jazz.
You’d recognize him if I played one of his pieces.
Hold on… let me play a track for you…
You’ve heard him?
I told you so.
Well, the voices in my head sound exactly like him.
Ken Nordine. In my head.
Telling me to set things on fire.
And kill people.
But he’s so mellow, that I’m too relaxed and chilled out to set things on fire and kill people.
Until my meds wear off.
Tag: poetry
Sing, Motherfuckers!
His powerful X-Ray Vision, stalemated by another superhero with O-Ray Vision in a game of naughts and crosses.
Faster than a speeding bullet, even faster than a bullet driving sensibly under the speed limit.
He once sued Dr. Pepper for malpractice… and won!
He sold vowels wholesale to Pat Sajak, who resold them on Wheel Of Fortune at a huge markup.
He once crossed an oboe with a bassoon to create an oboassoon, which Keith Richards uses as a bong.
“Grease” became a musical when he stood up in the audience and shouted “SING, MOTHERFUCKERS!”
That’s me, dammit!
SING, MOTHERFUCKERS!
Weedhaven
Listen to the children.
Laughing.
Crying.
Screaming.
Another fine day at The Weedhaven Laughing Academy.
They are all in their pajamas.
They are all in their rooms.
They are all in their beds.
Laughing.
Crying.
Screaming.
Will we let them out?
Will we let them play?
Will we let them have fun today?
No, no matter how much they laugh.
Or cry.
Or scream.
Check the locks on the doors.
Check them twice.
And check them again.
Don’t worry about the bars on the windows.
There are no bars.
Or windows.
Just walls.
To contain the children.
Laughing.
Crying.
Screaming.
The Elegant Elephant
The Elegant Elephant
Dons his top hat
Puts on a tuxedo
Gives his wallet a pat
“Where are the tickets
To the opera?” he thinks
”Are they lost? Are they gone
If they are, well, that stinks”
”They’re at the box office”
Says his wife, heaving sighs
”I knew that, I knew that”
The old elephant lies
His wife says “You’re senile
Or maybe you’re drunk
If it weren’t attached
You’d forget your trunk!”
“How do I look?”
“I think you look fine.”
She gives him a stare.
“I mean, you look simply divine.”
And they had a good time.
The Thinkerer Thinks
The Thinkerer thinks
The Thinkerer thinks
Gathering links
Gathering links
His list of links shrinks
His list of links shrinks
Tossing those he thinks stinks
Tossing those he thinks stinks
Working out all the kinks
Working out all the kinks
And occasional chinks
And occasional chinks
Ignoring the finks
Ignoring the finks
He smiles and winks
He smiles and winks
Serving up some drinks
Serving up some drinks
We toast, the glass clinks
We toast, the glass clinks
Causing many hijinks
Causing many hijinks
Sitting there like the Sphinx
Sitting there like the Sphinx
The Thinkerer thinks
The Thinkerer thinks
Buffoon
I took my girl to the county fair
Winning games with such manly flair
She coveted a gigantic balloon
But instead, I got a big baboon
Despite all the ululation and wails
It picked out the bugs from her pigtails
A commotion resulted from all the fuss
Then it climbed up a pole and threw dung at us
I apologized, admitting defeat
We abandoned it out in the street
When I tried to play all the games again
They were rigged, there was no way I could win
I lost my girl at the county fair
As
If
You
Care
The Whales All Vanished
One day, the whales all vanished.
So did the dolphins.
And pandas.
And Tasmanian Devils.
And every other species on the planet.
Besides humans.
Then, the lights went out.
Things got really nasty right around then.
You’d think there’d be
A voice
Or something
Telling the human race
“What the fuck?”
A dramatic pause
For emphasis
And then:
“I turn my back
For a few centuries
And this is what you come up with?”
Followed by
A long
Heavy
Sigh.
There’s no point telling
What came after that
Because the
Whales
Pandas
Dolphins
Devils
Really don’t give a shit, Man.
Ode To A Troll
if i could press
a magical button
and wipe you
from existence
i’d press that button
but
i wouldn’t just press that button
i’d press that button
in style!
there would be a parade
with elephants
and horses
while marching bands played
girls in short skirts
twirling batons on fire
and old men in fezzes
what are they called?
shriners?
shriners!
went around
on those scooters.
and bringing up the rear
a massive cannon
that would fire me across
two football fields
my hand outstretched
smacking that button
and sending your
ugly
disgusting
evil
miserable
vile
obnoxious
ass
to
hell
Sniffing Glue
She tells me that I have no fucking clue.
But, truth be told, I have no glue
Without the glue, my thoughts don’t stick.
I draw a blank, I don’t know dick!
She says:”Make a note and write it down!”
Do you take me for some dumb clown?
Of course I write it down on notes.
And then I lose them, this shit blows goats!
The doctor wants to scan my brain
He hopes that scan just might explain
Why I haven’t ever got a clue
Is it okay if I tell you?
(Alright, I’ve sniffed way too much glue.)
Plus
What’s all of this fuss
About Google Plus?
You’re suspended? You’re blocked?
Well, color me shocked!
Did you think for a minute
They’d let you stay in it?
The circles and streams
Fill up with your screams
Of protest and threat
They’re not listening, I bet.
If they took time to explain
We’re just a nuisance, a drain
We don’t buy all that stuff
The ads sell, so tough!
Facebook’s just the same
We don’t fit in their game.
When will Twitter become
Like these “real name” scum?
Well, you can all go to Hell
(Time to log into SL.)