Blogon Poetry Slam!

In honor of the last day of March, it’s time for a little poetry. This seems to scan if sung to The Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star

o franken factor on the internet !pleh !pleh,
airborne adventure wales, tarkett tap tight, porque?
westminster abbey photo newton s tomb, it snew

tricky woo… tricky woo…

rasa, computers picture room full of monkeys
newton s first law and marble maze, saltwaterchimp.
newton law falling apple animated gif

bucky katt, spork bucky katt

tricky woo, bucky katt monkeys?

harris-tarkett tap tight, o franken
harris-tarkett tap tight, o franken
show me yours and i ll show you mine, picture of a brain in love
tricky woo, bucky katt monkeys,
tricky woo darby.

ashcroft calico vanity fair, cnn
arcana faucet, baggins gamgee, l il pink sock.
ham ham heartbreak ta-da, anthony zerbe, soy vay

orlando bloom and alton brown
alton brown orlando bloom

B5, lord of the rings nazgul sound.
B5, lord of the rings nazgul sound
carrot tops are green einstein, red hair social anxiety
i have green carpet what color can i paint my walls
weird spam subject lines, mythbusters stunt devil

Sindarin calligraphy,
list of names in sindarin.

harris-tarkett tap tight, o franken
harris-tarkett tap tight, o franken
harris-tarkett tap tight, o franken
harris-tarkett tap tight, o franken

And so on. Lame, but weird enough to sing along if you’ve had enough beers. So drink up, the week’s half done.

Blogon Poetry Valentine’s Day Barforama

Yes, it’s that time again, pioneers – yes, today we mine the search phrase log for some more Blogon Poetry. And this month, in honor of Valentine’s Day, it’s all about the luuuuuuuuuuuurve.

can you spell viagra?
sexy toenails and pictures 2004.

piercings albert padlock,
master slave restaurant plug wet…
peekaboo bug holly hack,
samuel pepys naughty bits.

fried chocolate new york
alton brown orlando bloom.

real redheads with green eyes,
redheads with braids;
avoiding negative people —
aol bad stuff.

Okay, that probably caused only a few people to bleed from their eyes and ears, now let’s have some seasonal poetry in honor of Winter:

how to check a float in snowblower for leaks:
amazing snowthrower picture road,
tubing winter funny pictures.

frozen laptop cold winter…
frost line albany new york pipes frozen.

Any brains exploded yet? No? Well, let’s crack on with a little number I like to call


my-doom apologise cancel
einstein grimace photo

Right, there’s still a few poetry fans still twitching, so we’ll finish them off with this months’ stanza of the epic poem, “Childe Thomas a Crapper”
(caution, adult content)

plumbing toilet tank water running ghost flush,

shit in a bath.

plumber pipe inflow —

camp swampy in 1968

And that’s about it. I couldn’t come up with a viable poem for the fragment

things about maui that suck
because there is very little material out there on this topic.

In fact, the only things about maui that suck are that 1) we are not there and B) it’s winter here.

Only 4 more days to procrastinate buying your loved one a nice gift maybe chocolates or roses? Yes? Procrastinate away, pioneers!

Blogon Poetry Smackdown

Like everyone else in the blogoverse, I find the statistics of my own page weirdly diverting and entertaining. Also, it’s free blogfodder, so there nyaaaah.

And here is my first poem. ::clearing throat::

“Why Moon is Better than Mars”

why moon is better than mars:
cabinet war room dance.
winning an argument for kids…
elecia battle guilty verdict.

Well, that probably didn’t cause anyone to drop dead, so here’s another one:

“signs of frozen pipes toilet”

Signs of frozen pipes toilet,
frozen pipe to toilet.

Frozen pipe stories,
frozen pipes in garage picture.

Frozen vinyl tube plumbing –
what to do about frozen indoor pipes?

So there’s my poetry. I hope you liked it (if you are not retching in the corner).

And thankfully, that’s all the Blogon poetry until next month.

Poetry for Pleasure, Fun Beyond Measure

My husband David and I spent the weekend either running around in the heat shopping for materials for a couple of easily-accomplished home improvement tasks, or dragging ourselves “into the cool” of the house to have a tasty beverage and recover our energy for a bit. Also, there was napping. It was a good weekend for that.

We managed to complete one little project day before yesterday, on Saturday. The guys that poured the driveway had left trenches down the side of the driveway where the wooden forms had been staked into the ground for the pour, and after looking at this for 2 or 3 weeks, we decided that it might look nice if we added some more gravel and some leveling sand and put in reddish-colored pavers. And it does look good, except where I stepped on the one side to “seat” them more fully and ended up knocking out of true a bit – we think there needed to be more backfilling there. Well, they still look pretty good.

And then yesterday, we were pretty sore, so limited ourselves to lighter duty stuff, harvesting tomatoes, and napping.

Today, we went off to Menards and then the Container Store to get some shelving – started with the “do it yourself” stuff at Menards, and then bagged it and went to TCS for the more expensive Elfa system stuff that David’s had good results with before. They’re good there about walking you through the design process and figuring out how many uprights you need and how many shelves, and how wide they should be. David struggled a bit with getting the hanger strip installed – actually, two of them end to end, but then putting the hangers and shelves up was literally a snap. So now a lot of the junk in the garage is up off the floor or arranged neatly on the new shelves, rather than being stuffed onto the smaller, less classy looking shelves we still have on either side of the new unit. We even cleaned off the “work bench” (actually, an old busted hollow-core door) to be ready for another little project this week.

While waiting for the shelving order to be filled, we went up to the “big box” bookstore for a while. I came home with three books:

The Ode Less Travelled: Unlocking the Poet Within
This already feels like an old favorite, a property I love in a new book. Mr. Fry confesses to a Dreadful Secret: He writes poetry for fun.

I have written this book because over the past thirty-five years I have derived enoumous private pleasure from writing poetry and like anyone with a passion I am keen to share it. You will be relieved to hear that I will not be burdening you with any of my actual poems (except sample verse specifically designed to help carlify form and metre): I do not write poetry for publication, I write it for the same reason that, according to Wilde, one should write a diary, to have something sensational to read on the train. And as a way of speaking to myself. But most importantly of all, for pleasure.

This seems like a pretty auspicious beginning; I chuckled quite a bit over the Forward and the chapter entitled “How To Read This Book,” and so I think that I’ll be able to overcome my English major’s background (the dreaded “How do you respond to the daffodils?”) and give it a whirl. I always enjoyed writing comic verse but never gave myself enough of a leash to write a “real” poem. I’m feeling inspired enough to at least try some Blogon Poetry again just for fun, because the random nature of mining your own site statistics for weirdly disjointed phrases makes for some odd yet slightly interesting verse.

After that, I’ll be reading the next book in the “Harry Dresden” series, Grave Peril (The Dresden Files, Book 3). I’m still irked that they cancelled the SciFi Channel TV series, but the books are of course richer, deeper, darker, and sexier than they could have put on American TV, even on a cable channel.

It’s really annoying to be a citizen of a country founded by several dozen boatloads of religious cranks, you know? A lot of us have gotten over this, but still that stubborn Puritan streak keeps showing up in the way we react to news or entertainment or public servants who get caught in an improbably wide stance in an airport men’s room. This reminds me of a visual gag, now that I’ve been reminded of it by re-reading about Mr. Fry’s brilliant career in British television. Sadly, Stephen Fry wasn’t involved in “Blackadder III,” appearing in only one episode, although he returned as General Melchett for the whole run of Blackadder Goes Forth (BBC Radio Collection)

How’s this for a wide stance, Senator Craig? And in wigs and knee pants, too! That’s Hugh Laurie in the middle as Prince George, son of Mad King George and about the thickest git in three counties. That’s a manly stance, now!


There, I feel better. That joke won’t get old for a good long while yet.

Anyway, after reading the Jim Butcher book(s), I’ll be starting this:

I like Neil Gaiman’s stuff, and Stardust seems like a natural. We’re going to try to see the movie before it scrolls off the local megaplex screens.

Primate Primal Poetry

GREAT APE PRESS – simian poets need apples and cats, not typewriters

Steve sent this in retaliation for my sending him a link to the Sidetalkin’ site.

rock. sit rock.
want apple.
janet give apple. give apple janet.
want apple.
rock. want apple.
baltar apple. want apple.
janet give apple baltar.

Dammit, these monkeys are making a monkey out of me, their stuff is much more lyrical than my craptabulous Blogon stanzas.

Dammit dammit dammit. They write better mysteries than I can, too:

The Mystery of the Missing Cat, by Chimko

chimko find tree. need cat. where cat. chimko find cat. where cat. janet cat? apple janet? cat. cat. cat. cat. want apple janet. need cat. where cat. find cat. cat. cat. cat. chimko like cat. find cat. cat fur. nice fur. cat fur. cat. cat. chimko janet. janet. janet chimko. find cat. where cat. want cat. want apple. need new diaper. cat. janet diaper. apple janet. cat.

I might as well just give up now.