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Array ( [sid] => 2422 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Iconoclast Forgetting to Burn His Toast [time] => 2002-08-17 19:08:24 [hometext] => [bodytext] => "O Miss, I love your
daughter's voice," he says.
Seen as no more than another
paper-bag face with a magazine
hair cut, the collaboration of
culture/sub-culture fails here,
(another processed example
of a situation's chaos).

I sit in the lawn
autographing in alphabetical order,
every blade of grass I've ever
stepped on. Mozart is there to
help me if I forget any of the letters.
Sometimes I do it on purpose
just to hear him sing.

The main problem with an angle of
confrontation lies within one who
cares to deliver it in the first place,
(he searches for someone who
doesn't want her tomatoes).
What did you expect her to
say to that? Let's go out and have
a cigarette? Let's go out and
look at the stars? You could
have asked me and I'd have told
you there were too many clouds
out there. I'd have also expressed
the surprise I had when you didn't
ask her if she liked cucumbers.

I guess that if I don't want somebody
on my a**, I shouldn't put
such small letters on my
bumper sticker. Someday I'll open
a theatre and dance under the
giant flashing marquee which
discriminates between the people
who can and should not talk to me.
It's not that there's anyone out there
I wouldn't love to converse with,
it's just that I think it seems right
to offer a fair warning for their
protection. Something like,
"Please do not approach this man
expecting any form of convention."
(I'll have to hire a writer).

The hair stylist shaves his
head to get enough sleep
at night. I have to forget
where I've left my pen. It
would be best if I could
forget where I've left my
brain, but I haven't yet
figured out how to lose it
in quite the same way as
I've learned to lose the
minds of others. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 149 [topic] => 25 [informant] => Adam_Gaucher [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 1 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => MiscPoems )

Iconoclast Forgetting to Burn His Toast

Contributed by Adam_Gaucher on Saturday, 17th August 2002 @ 07:08:24 PM in AEST
Topic: MiscPoems

"O Miss, I love your
daughter's voice," he says.
Seen as no more than another
paper-bag face with a magazine
hair cut, the collaboration of
culture/sub-culture fails here,
(another processed example
of a situation's chaos).

I sit in the lawn
autographing in alphabetical order,
every blade of grass I've ever
stepped on. Mozart is there to
help me if I forget any of the letters.
Sometimes I do it on purpose
just to hear him sing.

The main problem with an angle of
confrontation lies within one who
cares to deliver it in the first place,
(he searches for someone who
doesn't want her tomatoes).
What did you expect her to
say to that? Let's go out and have
a cigarette? Let's go out and
look at the stars? You could
have asked me and I'd have told
you there were too many clouds
out there. I'd have also expressed
the surprise I had when you didn't
ask her if she liked cucumbers.

I guess that if I don't want somebody
on my a**, I shouldn't put
such small letters on my
bumper sticker. Someday I'll open
a theatre and dance under the
giant flashing marquee which
discriminates between the people
who can and should not talk to me.
It's not that there's anyone out there
I wouldn't love to converse with,
it's just that I think it seems right
to offer a fair warning for their
protection. Something like,
"Please do not approach this man
expecting any form of convention."
(I'll have to hire a writer).

The hair stylist shaves his
head to get enough sleep
at night. I have to forget
where I've left my pen. It
would be best if I could
forget where I've left my
brain, but I haven't yet
figured out how to lose it
in quite the same way as
I've learned to lose the
minds of others.

Copyright © Adam_Gaucher ... [ 2002-08-17 19:08:24]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Iconoclast Forgetting to Burn His Toast (User Rating: 1 )
by Jackee_line on Tuesday, 25th February 2003 @ 09:23:17 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I enjoyed this one, Funny poem.

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