Post by Orson Wells as CitizenCainLittle Homeless Clown
So I been out rambling
shambling
through the trailer park 'til dawn.
That's the closest to an autobiography you'll get, Dockery.
A part of it, yes. and your obsession is noted.
There's no obsession. I'm telling you that you look like a
fuckin' serial killer and need a haircut.
Damn, why don't you lighten up a little? Your obsession is
starting to sound like hate crime.
Damn, why don't you keep your nose out of places it doesn't
belong?
Because she likes the smell
Dennis Hammes' ongoing fantasies noted, again.
How funny. Look at the way you sound in your little miffed school
boy attempts to berate me. Is this how a professional poet of your
supposed caliber acts? You've even lost sight of what you were
whining about in the first place. Now you claim I am somehow as
"kooked" out as you are (clearly an 'I know you are but what am I'
reaction - and if all else fails just claim a person is crazy). We
all need meaning in life. I'm glad I've given you something to
work
on so far this year. Maybe next year you can get back to
accomplishing the world's longest and most boring series of
sonnets,
after which you will be knighted, or who knows, sent to the
gallows
to be hung for poetic obstruction.
Your words are marked with misunderstanding and you appear to be
socially defunct. Please send $3.95 in a self-addressed stamped
envelope to "Socially Defunct," P.O. Box 401, Atlanta, Georgia,
30240.
The words were directed at Dennis Hammes. And sorry, I don't
contribute to extremist organizations or zealots screaming to the
world. Sorry, you're out of luck, babe!
It's an organisation for the rehabilitation of William Dockery.
Believe me, it'll take zealots and extremists.
(And a lot more than $3.95.)
P.S.: My knighthood has been a matter of public record for 43 years.
You're talking about a Baronetcy, which doesn't exist in the U.S.
First prove it. Then, secondly, I have to give a damn.
Must have been around the time he awarded himself the phoney Litt. D.
Dockery you are a high schoold drop-out. You can't be trying to insult
someone based on college experience.
I'm insulting him
No, you aren't. And you never will.
O, But He Is. He's poasting his turds and lies to rec.arts./poems/.
And I can't insult him back, 'cos he seZ he's never insulted by
the facts, and these are just the facts, Ma'am:
Mac Fuckno
All human things are subject to decay,
But Dockery has /always/ smelled that way,
And so, Her Living Ashes, feeling dead,
But feeling with her ass his greasy head
And, twice as deep, his double-pointed tongue
So busy in her that she felt quite young,
And knowing zombies always fall apart
Before they quite can eat a /living/ heart,
Decided to bequeath that stale beer
The leaven of Illustrious career,
And half prop up, with half her half of wit,
His mountains of unspeakable Duck shit.
But first, was Baron Samedi to pay:
She had to make his betters go away,
And to that end she spat a clotted gruel
That lurched, reached out, and screeched each poet fool
Who wrote in verse, or of substantial deed,
But every one she could not hope to read.
Duck waddled, quacking, at his new-found friend
By following the smell of either end
In hope tongue-hungry ass was where it led,
But oozed from each decaying pore instead,
And so he licked at neither ass nor pit,
But was all over her like stink on shit:
She arched, she squirmed, she panted, preened, and purred,
For here, at last, was someone who concurred
That what was dead could masquerade as life
If only there was one could tout a wife
As wise, amusing, literate, and brave
Despite some years of being in the grave
And that he'd only drunk her life and lied,
And loved her only for that she had died.
This Duck was almost perfect as he was,
And this she had intuited because
He sucked almost as well as he could blow;
He'd wallow in her crap like a Rimbaud
Who felt no need of coming up for air
Until she'd tug directly on his hair;
His landscapes were as bleak as that young Dylan
He had taught when both of them were chillin'
Over found beers that hadn't quite gone flat
Between sets at The Former Laundromat;
His world was all illusion of his skill
Held tightly to his chest with bits of swill
So they would not fall into the Beyond
When he admired himself in any pond;
--
-------(m+
~/:o)_|
Illiteracy and stupidity fight to the death every day.
Trouble is, they breed first.
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