BS: Poetry about Mudcat

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 05 Apr 07 - 10:53 AM

" since this is your thread, really;"

Not really. Having started this thread, I have an interest in keeping it alive, but it is not my personnal fiefdom- it is for ALL here who wish to contribute to: I have no veto power, nor do I want any- I was just explaining why *** I *** did not copy that particular poem over from the other thread. I leave it to others to decide what MUST or MUST NOT be included- I use MY judgement as to what ** I ** post here.

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 05 Apr 07 - 10:44 AM

Well, Bruce, I yield to your discrimination since this is your thread, really; but the characterof Rapaire is of course iconic within the context of the MOAB, and the MOAB is iconic within the context of the Mudcat. So the case is a bit different. Regardless, it may be the kind of difference that a prudent judge or editor can not give cognizance to.

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 05 Apr 07 - 10:29 AM

Amos,

"The following exhortation was inspired by our own Rapaire, and therefore qualifies for anthologisation herein:"

The weakness of this arguement is that my ( last/former) muse has been known to get on Mudcat, and has a member's name- Do I therefore post ALL the sonnets I wrote to her her?

I think not, and I suspect you ( the amorphous group) would prefer it that way.

8-{E

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 05 Apr 07 - 10:13 AM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 04 Apr 07 - 11:37 PM

Rag-tag, bobtail, desperate rhyming,
Pie-eyed rhythm, wall-eyed timing
Helter-skelter, bouncing daily
As the number slip by gaily
While the non-plussed watchers pray,
nine-thirteen, and sixteen K.


A


Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Stilly River Sage - PM
Date: 04 Apr 07 - 11:24 PM

Sixteen nine and twelve is she,
Such poetry we should shelve, hehe


Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapaire - PM
Date: 04 Apr 07 - 09:05 PM

And resurrected by diggin' and delvin'
She's now at sixteen nine and eleven!

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 05 Apr 07 - 10:12 AM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 04 Apr 07 - 08:17 PM

Do not fret if Mom sinks down.
Toward the shadowy part of town,
When the darkness breeds dark fear,
And the threads all disappear!
We can bring her back again,
With a click, if we've a yen,
And to make it better, men,
Now she's sixteen-nine and ten!


A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 04 Apr 07 - 11:39 AM

The following exhortation was inspired by our own Rapaire, and therefore qualifies for anthologisation herein:

I left my parents' homestead
"Succeed!" they did often me tell.
And little did I think I would shame them
By the cruel fate, that then me befell.

I wandered from city to sity,
Endeavouring my talents to sell,
But my efforts did fail, and at the end of my trail,
I'm only a poor ne'er-do-well.

I'm only a poor ne'er-do-well.
I'm only a poor ne'er-do-well.
At the end of the line, I look 'round me and find,
I'm only a poor ne'er-do-well.

So I wandered to far distant regions,
I hoped to leave shame far behind,
'Neath the Idaho stars, in the cheapest of bars
With worry my poor face is lined.

I cannot reach Upper CLass Heaven,
Not even Middle Class Hell,
I'm afraid in my time, I will turn next to crime,
As a nefarious ne'er-do-well

A nefarious ne'er-do-well!
A nefarious ne'er-do-well!
I have fallen so low, to my fate I must go,
As a nefarious ne'er-do-well!

So come, all you lads from the city
And may your endeavours be blessed,
Take a lesson from me,
No ne'er-do-well be!
Go become a nefarious success!

Become a nefarious success!
Become a nefarious success!
Take a lesson from me,
No ne'er-do-well be!
Go become a nefarious success!


Gobsahve Luce Spiddle
Spray When You Sing!
Misunderstood Revelations Press, Saskatchewan 1954

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Bee
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 02:21 PM

On numbers great they frown and mumble
Posting frantic lines in haste
Fearing not the bandwidth grumble
Nor yet their sunless pasty state
The keys resound with fev'rish clicks
The glowing port before them shines
No hesitation must let stick
The posting of yet ten more lines
Without their chambers dim and dusty
Sound the cries of lonely mates
"Once my lass was warm and lusty!"
"Once my lad took me on dates!"
"Not yet, my lass, my lad!" they cry
That Great Big Number lies ahead!
I'll just post once more 'fore I slumber,
Just take the cat for warmth to bed!"

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 01:48 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 01:37 PM

In Time's sands, now draw a line.
Draw it straight, and clean, and fine.
MOAB has reached Sixteen-Nine!


A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 01:47 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 01:22 PM

We were 16-8 and ninety-eight
Just two from sixteen-nine.
And the loom of seventeen thousand
Was seen down past the line.
Then with vicious broomstick waved aloft,
We heard our Mother say,
"Git out of bed, you worthless slouch!
Move out! There's seventeen K!"

So we rubbed our eyes, and looked around,
And fell into our clothes.
And out the window, over the hill,
Where the sun had lately rose,
Why sure enough, a bright gold glow,
Like the start of a second day
Was brightening up the clouds below,
The glow of Seventeen K.

We could see it shine like Gabriel's Horn,
Where the heavens meet the dawn.
And we swore our eyes were playing tricks,
And blinked; but it wasn't gone.
And all that morning it glittered there,
Like an angel hard at play.
And we knew in our hearts, we had better start
Moving out for Seventeen K.

Now somewhere men are stern and glum,
Where there burdens are too grim.
Somewhere a man turn his back on life,
'Cuz it's just too much for him.
And somewhere folks can't understand
Why children laugh, and play.
But the MOAB crew understand that, too,
As they head for Seventeen K.

We know it's there, just over the hill
If you look right, it's quite clear,
Like the pale green flash on the ocean's back
When the setting sun draws near.
So just keep your calm, if the sons of Mom
Gallop past, berserk but gay,
And give them a smile as they make that mile
That will bring on Seventteen K.

Ransom Arbuthnot Stumpwhumper
The Voice from Over the Hill
Olden, Yuppiz, Revivivien, eds.
New York City, 2004

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 01:36 PM

The foregoing was a response to this Faustian epic which favors the conniving dexterity of Rapaire himself:

John-Boy Faustus, on a dare,
Made a deal with Big Rapaire
He'd withstand ole Satan's rant,
But Rapaire laughed, "Betcha can't!"

Rapaire said, with evil chortle,
"Secret words make men immortal!"
"Bring them wisdom, deep, all-seeing!"
"Going weeks not even peeing!"

John-Boy said, "Let's rock an' roll!
I'll start with one eternal soul!"
Satan thought 'twas pretty cool
To watch Rapaire draw out the fool.

He agreed with Rapaire's scam,
Said "Only you could flim this flam!"
Soon, ole John Boy had a deal,
Wisdom made his pore head reel!

He kissed Helen, late of Troy,
Overwhelmed was pore John Boy.
Endless rows of winsome bitches,
Endless insight, endless riches!

All the world lay at his toeses
He was wiser, then, than Moses!
Lined the ladies up and kissed 'em
Overloaded nervous system.

Soon his brain became eroded,
John-Boy's human mind exploded!
He became a German scandal,
More than one poor soul could handle.

Thrashed with pure nervous exhaustion,
Wished he'd acted with more caution.
Satan said, "You've earned your pay!"
Swept ole John Boy's soul away.

Gave Rapaire a bunch of ducats,
"Hell, the dough is free, so fuck it!"
"I'm above life on the level,
Why not grab dough from the Devil?"

Ole Rapaire felt rich and mellow,
Bought a home in Pocatello,
Some say he's an awful jerk,
For doing Satan's dirty work.

But Rapaire, with mien contrarian,
Says "I am but a librarian!"
"I do research through the mazes,
Digging long-lost magic phrases!"

"Who are you to give a fuck,
If I turn an extra buck?"
Not withstanding this rebuttal,
Locals planned his style to scuttle.

Planned and plotted, girl and fellow,
In the dark, in Pocatello,
'Til at last they brought him down
For plagiarizing Ezra Pound.

No more devil's gold he's spending
No more magic words he's lending.
No more ancient beauties kissing.
Gone mysteriously missing!

Dropped inside the penal schism
Doing time for plagiarism!
Stranger, pause, and say a prayer
For the soul of our Rapaire.

Wallace Beerbohm Sturgeon
Lost Tales of the Legionaires
Infinite Loop Press
Cupertino, 2001

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 01:33 PM

I must intercede; it is not to be borne that so bold and bright a voice as our own Senior Librarian Rapaire should not have his Epic Worke included in this humble anthology. Therefore at uncountable risk, I offer it below for those who do not venture into MOAB Landia:

The Absolutely Fantastic Adventure of Brave Sir Amos, Knight of the Table Round and Sans Pur et Sans Reproache

Amidst the angst of battle sound
Brave Sir Amos would be found,
Round him bodies steeped in gore
Men who'd never breath no more.
Cloven skulls and pierced hearts
Guts outside their inside parts
Legs and arms all scattered 'round
Scarlet plumes and trousers browned
Gouts of blood and bits of brains
Brave Sir Amos faced the trains
Of Celt and Pict and Saxon foe
Free to trade them blow for blow
Iberian, Banjoist and Basque
But fell Sir Amos to his task!
Slaughtered he the serried rank
And armed file. Until a tank
Lumbered fast into his sight
He quaked, but did not take his flight
For overhead, above the foe
An A-10 Warthog struck a blow
All liveried in puce and orange

The dragon did its mouth agape
The brave Sir Amos to entape
With its tongue, all slimy spit
Envenomed like the Devil's pit!
But brave Sir Amos stood his ground
Amidst the flames that danced around
His armor pure, but slightly scorched
By dragon's breath and forward marched
E'en unto the dragons head
And hacked it off and then he said
"Fair maiden I you this present
As token of my pure intent."
She cried, she shrieked, away did faint,
Her visage fair did look like paint
Of palest hue or whitewash pure
But her lips of crimson quite a lure
And brave Sir Amos kissed these
Again and again, like tasting cheese,
He could could nay stop, he could nay quit,
'Til damsel woke and took a fit
"Oh evil one, who my virtue took,
Now do the Right Thing, by The Book!
Now marry me within the month,
Or Daddy's gonna

Headstood he in blasted wood
Knowing that he did no good
To his insides or to his head
So got he to his feet instead
And like the good and parfait knight
He was he thought his hair a fright
So sprang he to his noble steed
Knowing that a comb he'd need
Ere he could to table come
And drink and eat and pound the drum-
Like table with the other knights
And drink, carouse, and get in fights
Until the rosy daybreak came
Bringing o'erindulgence's bane
Calling like the other louts
For aspirin, silence, patience, clouts
For those so much dropped a pin
And death to those who did more sin!
Searched for a comb he high and low
Here and there, above, below,
In and out, around and through,
On stormy sea, in morning dew,
On mountain high, in valley low,
In castle, keep, and bungalow!
And then one day he did espy
A comb that really caught his eye!
Bejeweled it was, in platinum set
Its very teeth as black as jet!
Its rattail of Einsteinium

Cried he, "Villein! Hold thy pen!
Don't write no more such stuff again!
Else I will have to take thy head,
Arms and legs, table and bed,
I'll break thy lance, I'll break thy sword,
I'll take thy dictionary, every word!
For I do not fear the wrath of men
Especially those who wield the pen!"
So drew he Fishmash, his noble blade,
And chased the poet 'round the glade,
'Til finally the poet slipped on the dew
And Sir Amos clove him quite in two!
"Egad!" quoth he. "What have I done?"
Now poets two instead of one
Shall loudly my details proclaim!"
And so he hacked the chap again
Until the poet mincemeat was
And with sound of flies the glade did buzz.
Then Sir Amos wiped from his blade the gore
Of the poet who would nevermore
Write of his deeds, both bad and good
Within the overarching wood
Of trees and shrubs and birds and deer,
Giants, orcs, and old King Lear,
Glaciers, palms, and pilgrims lost,
And danger to the permafrost.
Fair maidens everywhere did weep
And publicans did half their keep
Of nut-brown ale and whisky strong
And with flooding tears did the sums erase
That the poet owed, for now decease
He ne'er more could even up the score
Five pubs went broke and even more
Did ban Sir Amos for this deed
And the publicans spent their lives in need.
In rags their children went to school
In summer's heat and winter's cool
And in future times whenever they
Spoke to grandchild, fair or fey,
Of their youth, how in school they stay
(Tho' they walked uphill both the way
Through snow and ice up to their chest
Their education was the best)
They told of how Sir Amos, brave,
Did them to poverty enslave
By mincing the poet, head and knee,
Who was yclepted "Rapaire."

Exeunt Omnes

Here endeth The Absolutely Fantastic Adventure of Brave Sir Amos, Knight of the Table Round and Sans Pur et Sans Reproache.

---

Ya gotta give the dude credit for perseverance.

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 10:44 AM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 10:42 AM

Turning and turning in the widening thunder
The counter cannot hear the passing number.
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
A flood of bull is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed mind unreels, and everywhere
The innocence of apathy put down;
The best bring forth pure Bull, while the rest
Contrive in passionless mediocrity.

Surely some renaissance is now at hand;
Surely revival reaches toward the land.
BS Revival! Words no sooner spoke,
When a vast image out of some Cosmic Joke
Troubles my sight: somewhere in burning desert stress
A shape with lion head but not the heart of man,
A gaze blank and pitiless, decries BS,
Denies the Will and Wit, because it Can.

Reel shadows of the fleeing carrion birds.
The darkness breaks and stagger; and now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Are brought from nightmare by the MOAB's cradle,
And what bright hope, its hour come round at last,
Clicks on a blicky, ready to be born?

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 09:49 AM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: JennyO - PM
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 09:47 AM

***** 16891 *****

My pinwheel number's time has come,
Here's sixteen eight and ninety one.
Well balanced, viewed from up or down,
A little jewel for Mother's crown.

I turn it round, it slowly spins,
A germ of an idea begins.
Harness its power, that's my plan,
To use it as a personal fan.

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 09:03 AM

I prefer chocolate or ginger to drama...

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 09:02 AM

Well, yeah, so do I. But ya gotta be dramatic to give life a little flavor, right?

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 06:58 AM

So do I.

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 11:09 PM

Well, if you think so, Rapaire. I kinda doubt it myself.

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 09:42 PM

No, my death will be upon his head. He will have to live with the guilt of forcing me to live to death. He will go about pouring ashes upon his head, wearing sackcloth, and crying, "Oalloo! The brave Rapaire is slain because of me! I made him live to death!" and people will turn their faces from him and he will have A Mark upon him. Honey will be sour in his mouth, and wine will not comfort him. Finally his guilt will force him into desert places and amongst thorns and he will be heard of no more.

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 08:52 PM

Rapire:

You should file a protest. BB has changed his horses midstream and walloped his cod to a different drummer.

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 08:41 PM

No, it's too late. I've found that I don't have any Budweiser and all the knives are too dull. I think I'll live myself to death, and it'll be all YOUR fault.

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 03:47 PM

30 Apr 05 - 09:41 AM (#1474950)
Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos

The MOABite ran like a wolf to the fold
And their numbers were drooling and laughing, and old
In the pale purple dawn, at the rise of the hill
They stood in array, and they laughed soft and shrill.
Their horses cavorted, their trumpets were gold
And they sang out "BS"! in the damp and the cold.

Then each one to his stirrups, to each his épée
And they swung to their saddles, and galloped toward day,
With the screams of the dying rattling over the plain
The MOABites struck, struck again, struck again.
That was long long ago, as the elders recall,
Who were there and who saw it, and remember it all.

It was cognitive madness, a mind's paroxysm
Not one gal was sure what was hers, or was his'n.
On that plain stands today just a cold granite marker,
To remember the day when the MOAB went starker
In cool quiet letters, the stone doth profess:
"On this hill, at one time, there was first-class BS."

Merriwether Longjaw Stooling
Songs of the MOAB
Brown and Ridickledockle, New York, 1947

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 03:46 PM

Not about Mudcat, or a thread- just about a Mudcatter.


But YOU may post it if you wish- there is NO censorship here.

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 03:42 PM

I am simply crushed. The Epic Sage of Sir Amos was not chosen for anthologization on this thread. I think I shall go slash my wrists or have a Budweiser, one or the other but not both.

Crushed...ground into the dirt like the worker beneath the iron heel of the Capitalist Exploiter of the Laboring Class!

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 01:54 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 02 Apr 07 - 01:34 PM

Now 16, eight and seventy
Have spoke the MOAB path
With gallant epic ditty,
And heartfelt jolly laughs.
If eight and seventy do appear
To please our Mother's Mind
With Spring upon the MOAB can
The Nine be far behind?
And if the Nine should soon appear,
Brave Sixteen Thousand Nine,
How long before Seventeen Grand
Shall Cross the MOAB line?
And shall we then all celebrate
And hymn and drink and wail?
To see that Seventeen Thousandth Post
Stand tall on MOAB's trail?
Oh, let it be, that thee, and me
And all of MOAB's clan
May bring the day to come about
Our Seventeen of Grand!

Paisley Winnebago
Milestones on the Short Trail

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 01 Apr 07 - 02:20 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: JennyO - PM
Date: 01 Apr 07 - 06:52 AM

Before we reach the Seventeen Kay,
Another number, if I may,
Is looming still within my sights,
And should be mine before three nights.

I speak of course of one which spins,
And as it ends, so it begins.
At sixteen eight and ninety one,
My pinwheel number will be won.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 01 Apr 07 - 12:21 AM

Now neighbors all, I prithee see
Sixteen and Eight and Fifty Three
Of posts we merry lot have made
So onward, to Seventeen Kay!

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 04:37 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 04:35 PM

And wytha flaire, he cryed, for alle to see,
"Now do wee alle sixteene-aight hunnert Bee!"


A


Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 04:33 PM

"Then cryeed the Knight, "Nowe, bye mye bottle,
I do confesse I am an Axolotl!
Yea, 'tis truth, 'tis truth,
An ever I woulde speake ye sooth,
An vow I to you alle, I shalle not pander
In praying to become ye Saleamander."

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 04:24 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapaire - PM
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 04:23 PM

That was from the Albert Greathouse Manuscript, what is left of it.

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 04:23 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapaire - PM
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 04:21 PM

Speaketh up Sir Amos bolde
Stronge his arm and axillae withalle
Sir Amos who with grontes golde
Did sore ycled and yield trallalle!
Sayethe he This doth become
Naughte butte a way to theel and thum
All dawn til duske doth beate a drumme
And I hath feeleth mickle dum!
Nonne answerd him nonne to he spok
Yet perchance a yonge afrited byrd
Didst gyre and snatche a frogge to croke
And swiven swan untille it broke!

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 04:06 PM

RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 03:08 PM

As cruced yee Sonne across the towering Skye
To myne companions bolde I sayde, sayde I,
"Gude friendes, for Jesu' sake, then strive,
For wee are at syxtene and saevin-nynety-five!

"And fayne I woulde Oure Mothere Fayre uplift,
Ande unto Herre bestow the rairest Gyfte,
By gentle Spyryte and bye Helpin Hande,
To bring herre to Ye Seyventeen of Grande!"

Up spayke the Knighte, the bold Rapaire Yclept,
And said, "The land arounde I have beSwepte!
No Ennemie nor Hurdle lurketh there!"
And so assured us alle, Ye Bold Rapaire.

And thene stept Upp ye tender maiden Stilly,
Who blushing sayde, "An it does note Sounde Sillye,
I wille Myselfe to show here Any Manne,
That I in postes Out Number alle canne."

Thene chimed up Mario, a Manne of Emms,
Who well-reknownd was for Verse and Phlegm,
Ande kindly sayde, "Goode lasse, Bee note afrayde!"
Ande att her Feete, hise Posting Swourd he layde.


(These lines are all that remain of a much large parchment found in water-stained decomposed condition in an excavation recently performed at Outeback-under-Bog, a small village in Northwest Birdsex.)

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 10:16 AM

Amos,

A good poem, BUT not about Mudcat.

Sorry- I saw it and rejected it for this thread.

But feel free, if you must...

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: GUEST,sinky
Date: 28 Mar 07 - 06:48 AM

i long to be a mudcat a flapping on the shore
then i wont need to see a morris dancer anymore
shaking his bells wildly and dancing like a prat
id like to take his stick and give him such a bat
when will these silly people give up this silly dance
id love to be a mudcat and bugger off to france

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 27 Mar 07 - 05:08 PM

I think ole BB missed one.


A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 20 Mar 07 - 01:47 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 20 Mar 07 - 12:10 PM

At sixteen thousand six-nine-seven letters
I'd like to say the MOAB still grows better.
I'd like to sing the praises of her station --
The charm, the grace, the canny peroration.
That wiser grow, and wiser growing still,
Surmount all hurdles of the world and will.

I'd like to hymn her beauty and her grace --
The light she brings to every reader's face.
How fine, to praise the rhyhm and the temper
That makes each Son of Mom swear, "Semper!
Semper Fi! We pledge our souls to you!"
I'd like to write such paeans -- as would you!

But sadly, none of it is true.

Obi Whachu Wannabe, Syrius XI Planetary Laureate

Starview Publishining, Ether Editions Press
Glimmer City, 4345

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 20 Mar 07 - 08:40 AM

Just because truth is fun to tell,
I'll tell it here, and tell it well,
That poem was by
BWL.

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 20 Mar 07 - 07:25 AM

RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 19 Mar 07 - 09:47 PM

MOAB Post #1: From: khandu 05 May 03 - 08:31 PM
MOAB Post # 1000: From: Noreen - 26 Aug 03 - 09:37 AM
MOAB Post @ 2000:From: GUEST,William Shatner 22 Jan 04 - 06:34 PM

                               ODE TO THE MOAB UPON ITS 2000TH POST

When MOAB reached its thousandth post
I wrote a pome, said 'twas the most
That any thread had ever had
It warn't too shabby, not too bad.

It now has that thousand times two.
'Cause some folks don't have shit to do
'Cept shoot the breeze and waste their times
With foolishness and goofy rhymes.

Yes, MOAB it continues on.
The Goddammed thing just won't be gone!
A dream from which we cannot wake,
A never-ending stomachache.

It now looks like it may be true
That this thread never will be through!
So, what the hell? Don't buck the tide.
Just grab yer nuts* and enjoy the ride!

From BWL


MOAB Post #3000: From: Amos 05 May 04 - 10:35 AM
MOAB Post #4000: From: Amos - 22 Jul 04 - 08:20 PM
MOAB Post #6000 GUEST,heric 03 Feb 05 - 10:16 AM
MOAB Post # 7000 From: Stilly River Sage 25 Mar 05 - 10:26 AM

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: IWTATBM
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 04:58 PM

It's nice to know that Mudcat's there,
When you life's a mess, no one to care,
The boss may scorn you, wish you were dead,
But at home you've got your favourite thread.


© IWTATBM FFP 2007

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 12:27 PM

LOL! I guess I am grateful!! :D
\

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 11:40 AM

Amos et al,

Let me repeat:

"sorry, editing is extra. I try not to make value judgements about your work... "

8-{E

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 11:18 AM

It's a good thing Rapaire does not speak with forked tongue -- it would poke a hole right through his cheek.


A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 10:29 AM

and, of course, the Psalm-like

RE: BS: What makes you choose a thread
From: Rapaire - PM
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 09:10 AM

I only post to threads to which Amos has posted first.

Amos is my beacon, my guiding light,
the lighthouse which prevents me from crashing upon the rocks and shoals,
my leader, my hope, the star by which I navigate.
There is no one like Amos,
who watches over me and insures
that I follow in the Paths of Righteousness and Goodness
all the days of my life.

Either that or the thread must be interesting. I'm not all that interested in topics like "The US Being Awful To Iraqis" or "Bush Is A Lying Wuss" or "The US, UK, EU and Canada Suck Ditch Water and the Aussies Stink Too."

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 10:02 AM

RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 10:00 AM

Come all you bad rounders
And listen to me,
And I'll sing you the ballad
Of Bold Raparee
A gentleman sober,
A terror when full,
An erudite scholar,
And handy with bull.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

A man of great knowledge
Was this erudite cat,
From Dewey to Doctorow,
He had them down pat
He could send you long sections
Of Greeks from the shelf,
Tho' he'd often let on
He'd composed them himself!

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

He'd a good wife and family
And brothers most fond
And friends in the Legion,
And over the pond
But he was not contented,
And the story is sad,
For his one aspiration
Was to truly Be Bad!

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

He forsook all his learning
And his Library post
And from honest man's earnings
He gave up the ghost,
He went to his Mother
To learn how to sin,
And the answer she gave him
Made his poor brain to spin.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

She told him quite plainly
"Don't act so perplexed!
For the problem is just
That you get no respect!
You're growing a tummy,
And losing your mane
And the folks down at MOAB
Will just cause you pain."

But if you will listen,
And take this advice
We can make you a Monster
In half of a trice!"
"Go log on to iTunes
Where they sell MP3s
And find you some old ones
From Crofut's LPs.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

And if you are lucky
As you snoop around
You'll discover the story
Of Bad Leroi Brown."
Now sharpen your pencil
And listen quite well,
And you soon will become
The librarian from hell."

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

This bold man of books
Took good Counsel from Ma
And he swore he would soon live
Outside of the law.
He got him a razor,
110 volts A.C.,
Shoved it into his Weejums
Which were 10 triple-E.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

Then he went to a gun fair
To follow his fate
And he brought back a carload
Of monstrous weight
There were handguns and air-guns
Both stainless and blued
Though he limped when he'd heft 'em
From the Braun in his shoe.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

But in spite of the pain,
He did strut up and down
Saying "I'll be the baddest
Librarian in town!"
So he strapped on the iron
Just hoping for fun;
But it took him two hours
To pack thirty-eight guns

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

And the weight of those weapons
Forced his pants to the floor
And he cursed and he cried
And he sweated and swore
Then he found his solution!
It made his heart dance!
He bought eight pairs of braces
Clipped all 'round his pants.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:24 AM

RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:22 AM

Time will pass, but will not tell,
What goes on with BWL.
In his quiet moments brooding,
No demands of life intruding,
Shall he bring forth revelations?
Poems or tales, or condemnations?
Times he heard old Spawser flatulate?
Diatribes on objects spatulate?
Perhaps he will, perhaps he'll not
Perhaps his brain's now gone to pot.
But only time will pass and tell,
In any case we wish him well,
The silent MOABite, B.L.

Gordon Rumsey McKinney McAlistair Dunedin Fifer IV,
Scotty Doggerel: Kilt's Secrets and Highland Ballads
Whett, Macintosh, Inverain
Edinborough, 2004
A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:23 AM

RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 11:17 PM

A pox on those who better know
Than letting Mother drift so low,
Those spirits bright with hands of skill
Who have the wit but lack the will!
And those who sometimes take on airs
And say that others do not care
And those whose lives are left to coast
And borrow other's words to post.
Those Murphys, Flynns, and lowly Flanagans
Who pester Mom with such shenanigans
Are not deserving, by my lights,
To call themselves proud MOABites
And I am certain taht 't is true
That should the noble King Khandu
Discover now what dross has grown
Around the MOAB's soaring stones,
What damp has muffled now her drum,
And to what fate poor Mom has come,
I'm certain he would lose his head,
ANd maybe start another thread!
Then where would we be? Where would we write?
What would we do, alone at night?
I prithee, therefore, mend your ways,
And surface from your sleepy daze,
And write BS, both good and fair
To show the MOAB that you care;
Post once, post twice! And do not stop,
Until our Mom is back on top!

Winsfield Gathering-Hays III,
Ruminations on Transcendent Truth Amongst Friends
Penny-Dreadful Literary House
Cocksbane-by-Gender, 1937

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Amos
Date: 13 Feb 07 - 09:25 AM

He's mainly putting up the work of many others,
Much of it borrowed from our Mother!
In mining such rich veins, he's wise --
Mom loves to be anthologized!

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: Georgiansilver
Date: 13 Feb 07 - 03:00 AM

Bearded Bruce has written a book,
On the Mudcat Cafe, take a look.
Fine lines of words that dare to rhyme,
The metre always there in time.
The volume I could not hope to match,
But ideas I can surely hatch.
But my words surely you can see,
Cannot match Bruces quality.

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 12 Feb 07 - 04:15 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 12 Feb 07 - 03:24 PM

I love that Gluon is or is not there
Of blame for all my errors for to share;
I take delight, reflecting now that he
Thanks to primordial dark Uncertainty
Can take the blame of all I do wrong here,
Absorb it all, and lightly disappear.
Thus he confounds my critics all, and they
Who would about me harsh upbrading make
For in his glimmering, half-decided Being,
He shows that short exisiting is far seeing!
He serves the longer trail, the greater good,
And from him, lessons take, the others should.
To know that to be half-time in the Now
Gives double breadth and width of sight, somehow!
So do not haste to put the other shoe on!
Half shod, be half-way here, like Gluon!
Think twice for every half-thought offered here!
And like a duck-dog, become twice the seer!

Rumbilicus Sunderus Anew III,
Broken Phrases from the Wholest Heart
Meagre and Degradation, ed.
Jonestown, Guiana, 1982

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 12 Feb 07 - 02:37 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 12 Feb 07 - 02:35 PM

Pinwheeling numbers bring delight,
When the days are cold as night
Take such pleasures as ye choose,
If you're easily amused.

But for tougher, braver minds,
Here's a challenge -- go, and find
In the world of numbs' rhythm
The secret, lurking algorithm,

The law that every number feels,
That will make, of some, pinwheels?

A

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 08 Feb 07 - 07:53 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: JennyO - PM
Date: 07 Feb 07 - 10:35 AM

Here's your cake, MOM! Bee-dubya-ell ordered it a week ago. And here's a Birthday Banner for you!

HAPPY SWEET SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY, MOM!!!

And of course, your Birthday Song, also from Bee-dubya-ell -

*sings*

You're a thread from a dream
Your bullshit's supreme
A BS nukular bomb
You're sixteen, you're beautiful, and you're Mom

You're BS to our ear
It's you we revere
As other threads go and come
You're sixteen, you're beautiful, and you're Mom

       {Bridge}
       You're our MOAB, you're our thread
       We love you more than Wonderbread
       The mouse went "click", BS went "plop"
       When we started posting we could not stop

You appeared on the screens
Of our computin' machines
To BS we did succumb
You're sixteen, you're beautiful, and you're Mom
You're sixteen, you're beautiful, and you're Mom

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 08 Feb 07 - 07:52 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapaire - PM
Date: 07 Feb 07 - 06:46 PM

M is for the million things she gave me
O is for omniscience, which she are
A is for something or other just like those
B is for spending time down at the bar.

O is for omniscience, see above
U is for uric acid, which causes gout
R is for what happened: 'twas a rout.

M is for another million things she gave me
O is of omniscience, like I said
M is for another thing that begins with M

Put them all together they spell MOAB Our Mom
Except upper and lower case are rearranged.


             --Ode To MOM MOAB, by "Little" Richard
                Rogers and "Biggie" Hammersteins, 1913.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 07 Feb 07 - 04:06 PM

Lo, how the BS loud does rage,
Among the sleepy threads,
And draws the readers of the page
To shake their sleepy heads
How turley roond the tome doth grow,
How glissone goes its measure,
As on and up she boldly goes,
Where no man knows the pressure.
How stringly fired is her ween!
How glimly doon, her tripple!
Beneath the glumringed stars between,
A dampling, struttering stipple!
No lass in herbs can make her less
Nor lissome manny slattern,
For she has all our strove behest
And heaven's gandering pattern.
So come forth Une, Deus, Tray
And plaster thrice the wooly slab
For thou hast cantilevered Day
On the brow of proud MOAB!

g.g. thumbrings
Doonwich Porridge, New Yak, 1934

Subject: RE: BS: Poetry about Mudcat
From: beardedbruce
Date: 08 Feb 07 - 07:46 PM

Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapaire - PM
Date: 08 Feb 07 - 06:48 PM

I can but say what I have said afore:
O! do not wish one more:         
Rather proclaim it, Amos, through my host,         
That he which hath no stomach to this celebration,         
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,         
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:         
We would not drink in that man's company         
That fears his fellowship to drink with us.         
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian:         
And Mom hath had her sixteen thousandth post,         
And we will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,         
And rouse the barkeep at the name of MOAB.         
He that shall survive this day, and see old age,         
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,         
And say, 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'         
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,         
And say, 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day
Celebrating Mom's sixteen thousandth post
When bottles emptied as if by magical means
And songs from a thousand throats were sung
And tho' this was long, long ago, I am hung over yet.'