PLUMBING THE SOUL

[zorcas]

I must disagree
That pee has one synonym -
I've heard "piddle" and "wee"
and "he's micturating merrily
on his mate who's passed out, good on him"
more often than I'd care to recall.
But your gall to post on 'Serious' then drain your dragon,
wet the lily pad, empty your flagon,
and essentially to have trollery drag on
is amusing to me.

You forgot "urination" in response to America's question: "What am I?", its answer arrived at through the process of elimination. Wee and piddle, admittedly, are part of the vocabulary, but I used Harnischphaeger's word frequency analysis chart to determine the most common terms for a poem while leaving out mathematical ones like Number One and Number Two. You should not be amused as much as  bemused, if not abused. We poetizers are a delicate lot, especially when our poems go to pot.
Two.

I didn't quite forget it as let it be, the wealth of substitutes proving too many to repeat and prove an already proven point; as if by such proving they'd anoint me crown prince of internet debates with some degenerate sitting on a crapper, with poems best written on toilet paper for the wiping pleasure of various bums black and white. Not out of spite, but a respect for the art of poetry.  But I don't quite see why one such as he would post on Serious, a forum so straight it's barred to the bi-curious, unless the whole idea was to create a shitstorm of doggerel dressed as rhyme, which in Dante's time would have got the perpetrators right to the rack. I hope he's watching his back, the hack.

Are you related to the novelist from Niger? You crave a champagne?  Try this:
 
Uncorking Champagne
 
Like denuding
a fridge fugitive avocado,
peel away the glistening foil.
Admire the wire cage
in which the cork
is held captive,
wishing for freedom.
It's yours to give
using a fine linen towel
from Harding & Groves ($65).

Remove cork's iron mask,
placing towel carefully
on its bare Portuguese head.
Imagine Mother Teresa's shawl
as you wrap it around once
to look like Lawrence of Arabia's
ghutra flapping in a hot desert wind.

One hand tight on bottle's throat,
the other circling the shrouded cork,
sharply twist it to and fro.
( Two to's, three fro's works best.)

Bang!
Your task is done,
bubbly champagne
foaming like a wild dogwood
as it rinses you
from hand to elbow.

$75 for bottle and bubbles,
10 cents for the grapes.
Nothing for your troubles.


Shame! You cite doggerel but flea lion-like avoid that other sublime verse: catterel. I went to Serious hoping to avoid the worst;  it seems I have failed.