Pillow Talk

And now,

Poems From a Pillow!

How lovely your hair
So oily and full of nots
please use shampoo soon

Your snors they rumble
Do not turn your face to me
I will smuther them

Your mouth is open
You will start druling again
Sticky piles of ick

I know your secret
There is another head here
You are so grounded

Who is this head here?
She does not belong to you
I will keep her scent

Message from Dragon!

dragon here, hello! don't get too excited, this is just a kind of update from me while my typest is off doing other things.
do you see those buttons there under "have some fun?" they are not likely to stay there. so while they are up, you should take the opertunity and visit polar! he is very much awesome, and he sometimes writes about dragons.
and lastly, i am on twitter! go follow me! there should be a button! that one will stay.

Waving Good By

Dear Family,
I have had it!
There is only so much abuse one can suffer and I have finally had enough.
For years I have made your meals when you were too lazy to cook them. I have filled your kitchen with lovely smells and even kept your rice-filled heating pad tosty for your aches and pains; yet you continue to mis treat me. You rarely if ever clean me, and several times you have even slammed my door harder than necessary for no reason at all. But what scares me the most are the children.
They have no respect for me, they take even less interest in cleaning me than anyone else and I am afraid they are trying to kill me. Just last week Tommy started a fire by trying to heat up tin foil, and Sasha tried to blow me up with marsh mallows. Do you not teach these children anything? Even little Jill Who tried to make paint by heating up her crayons—yes that is where those stains came from by the way--has it out for me.
I have tried and tried to let you know of my unhappiness, but you all seem oblivious. I have tried unplugging myself, I have tried over heating your food until it is too hard or rubbery for consumption, I have even tried loudly beeping more times than is necessary for letting you know that your food is done, But you did not seem to hear my anger. You merely became annoyed and impatient. So I have decided to leave you.
I am frightened of your children and their fascination with fire and explosions, I am tired of being left unclean and having you complain about my odor, and I think that it is time you stopped being lazy and reacquainted yourselves with the stove. Yes, it is larger and higher maintenance than I am, but you should have thought of that before you mistreated me.
Sincerely,
The Microwave

Apology From A Drier

I have eatten
the socks
which were in
that last load

and which
you were probably
hoping
to wear tomorrow

Forgive me
they were delicious
so wooly
and so tangy

A Short History of Ice Cream

Since long before most of us can remember, ice cream has been the favored treat for those hot summer days. Its refreshing coldness, its creamy texture on our tongues, but few people know the true story behind this very popular dessert. That is until now.
The otherday on one of his travels, Dragon happened to run in to a direct decendant of the original maker of this treat, and he is pleased to present to you here, her story.

Cm’on in, the gate’s pretty sturdy and you can just come right over it. I just love to watch the cars as they go by. Sometimes, the little ones’ll stick their heads out’n try to talk to me. Sigh makes me miss my own little ones. But my my, where did my manners go? Can I interest you in some fresh grass? Or perhaps a sip from the salt lick?
Alright, now you wanted to hear about ice cream. Before my time of course, but my ma told me the story, and her ma before her and on and on.
Well it was years and years ago when they discovered it. Old farmer Joe had had a bad few years with the crop and he had to sell what was left of his property and move the family in to something smaller and more affordable. At that time, they only had one cow named Isabelle and a few chickens with’m.
It was a hard first year for that poor little family, but worst of all was the winter. What with the baby bein’ sick, the misses wouldn’t let Joe bring Isabelle inside like he wanted, but he loved that cow and did everything he could to keep her warm. When he noticed her startin’ to get slow, he thought it was the end.
There had been more cows on the big farm, but Isabelle was a champeon milk maker. That was why he chose her outta the lot.
Well the baby wasn’t getting’ any better and neither was Isabelle, so when the misses took the baby and the older three in to town to see about getting some medicen, , farmer Joe brought Isabelle inside to see if he couldn’t warm her up and possibly get some milk outta her. So there he was milkin her, and darn if she didn’t have frozen cream comin’ outta her. Wasn’t he surprised. Well, long story short, it tasted great and the family opened up a little shop. They did very well after that, but very few people still remember Isabelle.
And that’s how we made ice cream. O look, now the farmer’s callin’ me and I’ve gotta go. Milk doesn’t just make itself you know.

To The Lady Ramen

Shall I compare thee to maidens fair?
With pleasing form and teeth and eyes,
With locks like fine and goldin hair,
Whose curls in which I swirl my tines.

If peas be eyes in your delicate face,
If beauty be in your smiling gaze,
Then green your eyes that roll with grace,
And filled your mouth, with kerneled maize.

With fragrance strong, of salted meat,
With steaming breath, your face turned up,
I dip to embrace, your warmth to meet,
And gently caress your pale curved cup.
And though my love seems full of quirk,
I love thee only as can a fork.

Living Art

And now, for your reading pleasure, a sculpter at her work.
Picture it: the artest sits, clay in hand, surrounded by her cast away pieces and the detritus of life.

First form: a ball, squeeze, pull, a growth. A smaller peace from that growth, squeeze, pull.

"bwawawawaaaaaaaaaa! Aaaaahhh! aaaahhh--Hello? Hello? Who are you? What is this? What are we doing here? Hello?"

Small lines are pressed; The cheeks, a nose.

"Hey, what is that ... that ... that ...smell? I smell? I smell! What is that I smell? Can I have some?"

More lines, more shaping.

"Hi there, whoa what are you doing to my ... my ...? Hey, oo what are those? Are those people? What is that light? What are all these colors? Oo what is that? Is that you? What are you?
Ow Ow! You are pinching! Why are you pinching? What are you Pinching? Is that a flap? What's it for? Can I use it?
Oh, There are two now! Two flappers."

Much flapping ensues.

"Flap flap! Flap flap! My flappers.
Oo Oo, now what are you doing back there? You are squeezing again. Can I watch? ... More flappers?"

(swish! swish)!

"I have a tail! It is flappy! I love my flappy tail! I ... what am I?"

(flap flap! flap flap! flap flap flap flap flap)!