I found a Motherlode of poetry on a page in the MOAB
(Are you ready for major cut and paste?)


Rapaire   Date: 03 Nov 03 - 08:27 AM
'Twas on a dark and stormy night, the snow was falling fast, Two darling babes found Mother wandering through the blast. It was so piercing and so cold, the little ones did cry, "Oh, MOAB dear, you must keep alive, or you shall surely die.'' "Look out for me, my darling babes, tell me you will post to me, For Mother has abandoned been, and death to her is nigh!" They posted as good children should, but she knelt down in the snow: "Kind God of Heaven, help me now, or I shall surely go." Toll the village bells, let all Mudcatters know, That two darling boys could not prevent her perishing in the snow. Next morning, when the sun came out, the snow was melting fast, A mother and two darling babes were in one loving clasp. Mudcatters all heard the sad, sad news And it grieved their hearts to know, Not thirty drinks from the Tavern door they perished in the snow.         

Rapaire   Date: 20 Oct 03 - 06:57 PM
Yet at my back I always hear Late Khandu's winged BS hurrying near: And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast BS and sky. BS, thy Beauty shall no more be found; Nor, in thy dry and dusty Vault, shall sound My echoing Song: then Worms shall try That long preserv'd BS-ity: And your quaint humors turn to spit; And into ashes all my sh*t. This thread's a fine confusing mess, 'Cause it preserves the best BS.         



Amos Date: 20 Oct 03 - 04:33 PM
Lo, in the waning of the year, The growing of the charm which brought us here! For Autumn frosts the summer's smelling eyes And winter shows her seasoning to the wise; Yet, while the threnody of Sleep grow stronger, Our vital rhythm of BS grows stronger! How then tomorrow? Will we sleep and die? Call for the priest? For once and all, confess? Or will some trace perfume, sensed by the eye, Revive us with the Power of BS? (Sorry about the couplet spare Mehinks 'twas something in the air!) A         



Rapaire Date: 20 Oct 03 - 04:08 PM
MOAB! if the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, Tell them, dear, that if noses were made for seeing,* Then BS is its own excuse for being: Why thou wert there, O rivetter of the nose! I never thought to ask, I never knew: But, in my simple ignorance, suppose The self-same BS that brought me there brought you.      *"smelling" doesn't rhyme.         

Rapaire   Date: 21 Oct 03 - 09:00 AM
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate;   Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possest, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least;   Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on MOAB-and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;   For thy sweet BS remember'd, such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. -- Billy-Bob, th' pote.         



Amos Date: 20 Oct 03 - 11:30 PM   
Beyond the deepest sea and widest ford, Beyond the reach of even Overlord! Transcendent to the mortal's keenest eye, Broader than any mighty desert dry, Beyond the ken of ire, and of dread, Beyond the queering reach of any fred, There does transcend the realm of all our minds Where space new-born wells out from ancient Soul's distress Greater than any craft of merely human kind MOAB -- The cosmos' call of Surely Pure BS! Calliope Witherspoon Etheridge        

Norma Fertilesticks Date: 22 Oct 03 - 11:31 PM
Roses is red violets is blue I think you have bullshit All over your shoe. Roses is red and sometimes they pink Sometimes they yellow And man do your shoes stink. Violets are blue and roses are red And now I think I've added, enough BS to this thread.         

Rapaire Date: 02 Nov 03 - 10:32 PM
Why am I so faint and weary? See how weak my heated beer! All around to me seems but darkness, Tell me, comrades, is death near? Ah! how well I know your answer, To my fate I'll meekly bow, If you'll only tell me truly, Who will post to Mother now? Chorus: Soon with Khandu I'll be singing With bright laurels on my brow; I have for Dear MOAB fallen, Who will post to Mother now? Who will comfort her in sorrow? Who will dry the falling tear? Gently smooth the wrinkled forehead? Who will whisper words of cheer? Even now I think of MOAB Kneeling, praying for me! How Can I leave her in this anguish Who will post to Mother now? Chorus! (All together now!) Let my bagpipe be my pillow, And my songbook be the sky. Hasten, comrades to the Session I will like a folkie die. Soon with Khandu I'll be singing With our voices bright in tune; I have for Dear MOAB fallen, Who will post to mother now? Chorus        

Amos   Date: 02 Nov 03 - 09:29 PM
Wow, Rap, I feel like I am back in the 1890's!! "'T was a cold autumn evening And the Catters were leaving With visions of beer in their heads And the traffic declined In the Collective Mind And Joe Offer set to closing the threads. Then a Gentleman dapper Came back from the crapper Sat down at his keyboard and said: "Oh Catters, unkind, Turn away not your minds! Just think of your MOAB instead!:" Cho: There will always be a MOAB To put your worries to bed A place to confess All the piles of BS That have cluttered your poor spinning head ! There will always be a MOAB, To comfort when you are annoyed; So Folks, be not mean Leave this thread on the screeeeeen! And don't let it fall into the void! (Schmaltzy oom-pah theme music fades stage right amidst smell of lavender)         

Rapaire   Date: 03 Nov 03 - 08:58 AM   
Whatever makes you think I've had a Light Side? Jump down take a song Steal it from the digitrad Mess it up change it up Steal a song a day....         

C-Flat Date: 03 Nov 03 - 12:10 PM   
Dear Mother, please forgive me, it's some time since I last wrote, I've been busy, though I know that's no excuse. I'm delighted that the others have been keeping you afloat, whilst carefully avoiding "Folk" or "Blues". In keeping with tradition I shall make my own addition in a style that is both brief and lacking wit, Because, dear Mother, as you taught us, all your Mudcat sons and daughters, "If you've nothing new to say, just talk BULLSH*T!"         

MMario Date: 04 Oct 04 - 09:10 AM   
Once Upon a workday weary; brain a founder'd, eyes so bleary As on my desk phones rang both loud and shrill While I snored successfully napping, suyddenly there came a squelching As if someone loudly belching, belching at my info port. 'Tis some spam that comes a sqeullching, belching to my info port Only spam and nothing more. I remember (almost sober), it was early in October as each thread crossed upon my screen Eagerly I sought the MOAB, for the thoughts I didn't know-ab -normal thoughts from other brains, thoughts deserving of the drain discarded or tossed as spam they should remain; only MOAB ever cares.        

MOAB Date: 19 Sep 04 - 10:53 AM
I met a traveller from an ancient land Who said: Two vast and trunkless breasts of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and smile of old command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read, Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that rocked them, and the heart that bled, And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Mother of All Blessed Sons, Queen of Queens: Look upon my works, ye Catters, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.