Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

fricking cricket
tricked me, threw
his chirp,
ventriloquism his
forte, dirty little bug

was gonna escort
him out kindly, but
he hid in front behind
me, singin' monotone
harmony with the bass
board, gotta head in a
steep pound, pushed
the bed 'n bookcase
'round, gotta back
sprain, no sleep –

frickin' cricket when i
find the muthafucka
gonna keep him like
a pet in a glass jar,
no air, dare him to
do vocal calisthenics
in my trap then take
a frickin' nap

damn thing
been singin' since
sunup and, jiminy!
it's almost dawn
tomorrow already!

chinese myth
says don't kill the
flat-pitched pests,
but guess why?

'cause by
the time y'find 'em
they're prolly dead
already, and y'haven't
slept in three weeks

talk about bad luck!

frickin' chinese
are geniuses
.
.
.

dp/10/2/08

You are to lyricism what Bach was to music. This is a humorous frolic of a poem. I enjoyed it much.

John

What a beautiful thing to say! Gawd if that were only close to true! You're a dear. Thanks John. Glad you enjoyed this.

hahaha.

i enjoyed this. maybe end at three weeks line. or re-chisel.

i got some fire-bellied toads for my terrarium recently. i've been feeding crickets to the toads. young crickets dont have wings so they cant sings. b.c their noise is rear-leg rubbing on wings, technically.

these little crickets keep escaping and roaming around the house. the cats think they're funny. none have survived long enough to start chirping. i ws really worried about that at first.

oh no my roommate steve is gonna kill me when a cricket chirps eternity in his bedroom through the winter.

but the crickets cant seem to find food for themselves freely ranging the apartment. either the cats get em. or the spiders. or they just turn up dead and dry.

too much time in captivity.