Poetry (4 the insane): The Forgotten...

I would like to introduce several poems from a series I call, "The Forgotten Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes". I think all of us would recall at least one Mother Goose Nursery Rhyme from our childhood, or from a movie. Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall; Jack and Jill went up the hill; This little pig went to the market... Any of that ring a bell? If you google Mother Goose you'll notice (if you look for it) that not one of the 362 titles start with the letters K, Q, V, X, or Z. So, after pondering not-so-very deeply why (and feeling bad for those excluded letters), I decided to write poems for those letters myself. To save you some time on pondering why, I'll ask you to think about the history of nursery rhymes, which is actually quite shady, or so I've thought to fabricate in my mind. The origins of some Disney stories were derived from these early nursery rhymes and stories that were more adult in nature, or ones that I would at least speculate had double-meanings which slipped by the publishers (unless they were in on it). Even modern Disney movies like Aladdin and The Lion King had some controversial sexual references that were discovered. You MUST have heard about that, unless you live in a cave or, just, haven't heard about it... Anyway, Disney took stories and made them more kid friendly...

Do you think the original Prince Charming kissed Snow White to wake her up? If so, maybe you should change your name to Dopey. "Hey, a magically preserved smoking hot seems-to-be-dead girl on an alter in the middle of the woods, and NOBODY is around"... He totally fucked her! Those seven horny fucking trolls probably did the same damn thing, or maybe they didn't. What do I know? Anyway, I'm straying from the point... That point being, I've revived what I think those lost nursery rhymes could have been. Enjoy!

* * *

Xanthippe

Xanthippe, you heard of her before,

Not quite the girl next door,

Not quite the girl you bring home to mother.

She is a carnal athlete,

An anytime of day treat,

She is quite an unquenchable lover.

* * *

Violence is Not the Answer

“Violence!” cried a little man; he had a little gun,

When he was a little boy is where this tale was spun,

He raised flames, spires, to “burn, burn, burn!”

Shoot to kill, sort in hell, maim, boil, churn.

“Violence!” cried escapist goats, who bleat, bitch, blame.

Their statement as the story broke; “clearly, mindless, games.”

When he was a little boy, he liked to murder dogs,

His games were scheming, charming; dreaming life like he was god.

“Violence!” cried the headlines, as he strode across the map,

Upon a sickly horse, he called down storms, and skies grew black,

When he was a little boy he knew nothing of sins,

Then evil knocked, and stood outside, until he let it in.

* * *

Zealots March

Zealots march like wooden dolls,

Engulfed by their hate,

Nirvana awaits none

(That was also a haiku. If you don't know what those are... Ugh, keep following this blog.)

* * *

Voluptuous

Voluptuous breasts, bouncy, bouncy,

The cook bakes pumpkin pie,

I would care to see her dance,

Topless or even naked. Oh my.

“Do you wish for pie?” she asks,

She’s noticed I’ve been licking my lips.

With wholesome restraint I merely said “please”

Then she pointed between her hips. 

* * *

Quintessential Sally

Quintessential Sally,

Always quaint and coy, 

Wished to quip,

So she querulously climbed on stage.

Her words shocking quandary, of questionable dirty laundry,

It nearly had quarrelsome crowds engulfed in rage.

Quintessential Sally quibbled still,

Queerly,

For Sally had no qualms,

Quintessential Sally had a quest,

A skill to test, and quickly, 

So Sally quintessentially sallied on.

Quintessential Sally wanted love,

She bore her chest, the room quiet by it,

She sighed with a quaver,

Then suggested quixotic favors,

For hers that would not quit.

* * *

X Marks the Spot

Tommy Ray had a very bad day,

a very bad day indeed.

Tommy Ray found a map with a tiny red X,

and thoughts of treasure turned his curious eyes green.

Daddy had a gun that Tommy Ray found fun,

when they fired it at targets and animals.

Tommy Ray stole that gun on this very bad day,

that his family would soon not find amiable.

Tommy Ray ran away with the gun he did sway,

as he went out to stake his claim.

The gun twirled around till Tommy Ray heard a sound,

that rang in his ears with a bang.

What a bad day, a very bad day,

for poor Tommy Ray, people cried.

He followed the map to the X that he sought,

Now X marks the spot Tommy died.

* * *

Kiss the Cook

Apple-bottom cherry pie,

I’d love to eat you completely.

Alone in the kitchen with nobody home,

or some place a lot less discreetly.

I swell for your taste to grace my lips,

so I can tongue it with delicate licks.

I melt every time you’re inside of my mouth,

and I love how you go down to my hips.