Sorry Mom,
But you could have named one of us Tom,
Instead you named us all Ed & dad had to use numbers,
I remember that nine months you had Lil’ Ed,
Boy, were you with that load he was, so encumbered…J
Then out he popped,
I had better poops,
But you thought him cute,
So kept him we did, in the basement,
We were so ashamed, didn’t want the neighbors seeing our debasement…L
No wonder he now gets along with the dogs,
We only fed him those legs from the frogs,
And he cried all night long, knowing he ate them,
Really mom you should have let me sell him off with the hogs…J
© ed ~ 9/27/06
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Love,
Susan
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
PS I'm the good looking one in that picture.
The one the do and the other the Devil...no wonder you stayed in trouble...lol!!
Love Tinka
Love Tinka
A cheerful word from you as ever Ed.
Now that you have at long last left that pungent, shrouded, magnanimous, glutenous, stinky, allegorical, freaking closet, here's a freaking mind-twister for you...
If a freaking wood freaker could freak woodies,
How many freaking woodies could a wood-freaker freak?
I know that's a little deep for you. I understand, because I'm your freaking friend. So, I will be just a mite compassionate. How big is a mite, you might ask. Well, it's a whole lot smaller than a freaking freak. Done there; been that.
Sorry, I had to take a respite from my requisitions of the pool of infinite woodies. I apologize; I meant to say words, but woodies seemed to conglomerate my perfunctory revelations lately. Seriously, a hoot-owl outside suddenly gathered my concentration into one thought process, leaving me without other possibilities to consider. But, now I am back!
I hope that doesn't happen again, because I like to think about lots of things like your poem. Oh, yeah! That's what I was thinking about. I will try to spill out my thoughts about your poem before they steal my mind again. Oh, shit, here they come again. Whew! They missed me this time, but I hope you will excuse me if they don't next time. That really sucks when they leave me without a thought to stand on. Okay, I think I'm good to go--or come--for the moment.
Where was I before I was interrupted by that mental mirage? I know. Great big gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts, great big gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts, great big gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts, and I forgot my spoon!
I hate it when I go off on divergent tangents like that. It really, really bothers me. Doesn't it bother you? Maybe it's just a personal thing, but I would hope that it bothers somebody besides me.
Okay, here we go. If a woody could chuck wood, why would there be any need for a wood chuck? Well, sure, well. You might say, "That was two 'wells' in a fragmented sentence." I would say that was too much silliness for my liking. So, I won't say that again. Doesn't that make you happier than a yard-full of dead pigs in the sunshine? It does me. Oh, I feel so much better! Don't you? You should.
Anyway, I liked your poem! It was pretty weird, but I liked it, nevertheless.
Your repository friend,
Scott
This left me in stictches again..Now Rufuz, your gonna have to talk to daddy.....I always get my fill, my cocktail for the evening from Ed & beloved Rufuz...Now I can catch some ZZZZZZZZZZ's
by the size of the butt cracks...
Too many Ed's in one house?
I think I'll have to ask Rufuz to intervene and see if he can't get you brothers back on track and being friendly again. I'm going from laughter to tears thinking of how sad things have become...help Rufuz! Woof Woof...Sister Eileen