This is Poppy
Poppy is happy
But Poppy is also sloppy
So he is a sloppy happy Poppy
And being sloppy can make him droppy
So he is a sloppy droppy happy Poppy
And Poppy calls his baseball bat a boppy
And he dropped the boppy on his foot
So sloppy droppy happy Poppy became hoppy
He was a sloppy droppy happy but hoppy Poppy because of the boppy.
And his hat is becoming floppy… er, what’s that disgusted look on your face?
Okay, maybe I better stoppy.
Oh, the grimacing grin of old Grandma Green
Is the scariest smile that you’ve ever seen!
She bunches up wrinkles and shows yellow teeth
And makes a boy worry ’bout what lies underneath.
But when she is smiling, she gives cookies and milk
And speaks in a voice full of honey and silk.
So maybe it’s not the worst smile ever seen,
That grimacing grin of old Grandma Green.
****This poem was added to the silly poems in my vault to be found here;****
My last post was about the movie Jungle Book and how happy I was at the beauty of that movie which fulfilled my childhood love affair with that story. But I failed to share my own Paffoonies created from the story of the boy raised by wolves in the Seonee Hills.
So here they are… although they are late;
This last one is a picture from a page in my wizardly tome of picture magic. The poem is called “Nobody Knows Why” and is interpreted here in case you can’t read the Mickian script in the Paffooney. Here is the text of the poem;
Nobody Knows Why
The world turns
And I must die
And ‘morrow comes
And Russians spy
And Doo-dahs Doo-dah
And Blueberry pie
And Monkeys shake
When they hear a Lie!
The mysteries in the meaning of this poem is supposed to remain a mystery. It is from a magical tome that belongs to a wizard. So, for all I know, it could be a very dangerous incantation. So don’t you dare try to figure it out. You don’t want to be a Monkey, do you?
Filed under humor, illustrations, Paffooney, poetry
I heard it and didn’t believe
Who heard it, you say, and then leave?
Yes they heard it and didn’t believe
Who sang it, you say, for reprieve?
Don’t shoot me, they sang it, believe!
Who told it, the pinball retrieved?
Yes they told it, and now I am peeved
Who wrote it and must be believed?
Yes they wrote it and made me believe
A pinball wizard, his song has grown cold
And finally they sang it and now it is sold
And a generation loved and laughed and were bold
But both Pete and Roger are now really old!
They were the soul of the movement
And love did surround them
The little girls screamed and that’s how
We all found them
With a real nowhere man
Living in a nowhere land
And poor Elinor Rigby’s lost love
There were one, two, three steps
Right down Penny Lane
Blue meanies and lovers regret in the main
And light shines upon us from somewhere above
But the thing I regret beyond yesterday
Is the fact that love grew and then went away
And in the darkness a shot rang out…
And John’s voice was silent…
As tears replaced cheers and grew dark all about.
I saw her face, and I’m a believer
I laughed when she laughed and never deceived her
On the last train to Clarksville in the quietest car
I watched her bright antics and loved from afar
The song they were singing was really quite frantic
And never could I be quite so pedantic
To tell the daydream believer her show was now over
And move on to leave her for a dog, name of Rover.
Filed under poem, poetry, strange and wonderful ideas about life, wordplay
The award that was given to me yesterday was not so much this blog as it was for my little vault. I opened a can of worms a while back when I created a second blog on WordPress more or less by accident. I wasn’t really interested so much in giving myself more writing tasks to do, rather, I decided I would use this other blog to store whole stories, poems, and cartoons. I really haven’t figured out how to link this blog to that one, or that one to this… and since WordPress “improved” everything by changing all the controls, I really don’t know how to properly link something or put a URL into this prose, but here is the web address for that blog;
https://authormbeyer.wordpress.com/2015/06/
It is a place where I have posted more complete works that, though mostly still unfinished, will take a little bit longer to look at and read. I know that my daily 500 words on this goofy blog is too much for most internet readers, and these things take way more time to read than is good for you. But some readers of this blog have recently discovered that the thing exists, and I have had a sudden burst of interest. I gained five followers to the vault yesterday. I think I have six total. I don’t post there often enough to generate traffic, but I do keep stuff there that certain of my followers here are likely to enjoy if they are foolish enough to buy into this whole artwork and wordswork nonsense that I constantly do. So, there it is… a little bit more of me than you were probably ready for.
Filed under announcement, blog posting, cartoony Paffooney, humor, my vault, Paffooney
My Dreams Have Wings (a poem)
Sometimes when I fall asleep,
I don’t drift down to slumber,
I grow great red wings,
And I take to the air,
To soar…
To escape…
To live…
Or simply fly away.
Adolphe William Bouguereau
There comes a time when life really stinks,
A day when the life force grows green-brown and sinks,
Yes, I am ill and my every breath kinks,
And I cough and I burp and the end of the nose pinks,
So, I gather together under the covers,
The rotten parts of me over which the fly hovers,
And cook them in heat of the dreams of old lovers,
And fantasy dreams, whose richness discovers…
The stories that make the sum of my life,
And memories of people who’ve hurt me with strife,
And good things and great things and details all mixed,
And stew while I’m sleeping til things are all fixed.
“Who am I?” the Walrus said,
“I have to know before I’m dead.
And if the Cosmos will not say,
I’ll ask again another day.”
“You are a simple Disney clone,”
Said Cosmos when we were alone.
“You draw and color with your brain,
And tell some stories despite the strain.”
“You taught a while in the Monkey House,
And learned that students like to grouse,
But in the end will love your class
And will give you medals made of brass.”
“And your poems are filled with Angel words,
Both quite profound and yet absurd,
Because your mind soars far away
On winds of wild romantic play.”
“I guess that I can live with that,”
Said Walrus as he grew quite fat.
“And Mickey is the name I write
To sign my pictures in the light.
And that is all I have to say
To write myself in the crazy way.”
Filed under humor, Paffooney, poetry, Uncategorized
Okay, people, I am not a poet and I’m sure you know it… But sometimes cartoonists rhyme for no good raisin… and make bad puns too. Today I will share with you a bit of versicular (verse+ick+ular) goofiness that I tend to call poetry. I am putting some in my vault, here; Poetry in the Vault (Mickey’s House of Fiction)
Sleeping Beauty (a Silly Poem of Love and Illusion)
In the dark and in the light
In candle flame and purple night
The beauty sleeps and fails to heed
The young man’s life of lust and need
What happens next is often sad
The want, the hope, the love so bad
And fluttering faery wings of light
Carry life and love and fuel the sight
With never a thought to what could be
If only love would call to thee
And wake the sleeper from her dream
To make the two but one to seem.
Hear the Music (a love poem)
The singer sings his song,
And wants the world to sing along,
Though the world has gone all wrong,
And the darkness stays too long.
The singer warms and croons,
Under bright romantic moons,
And carries hopeful tunes,
To the listening dolts and loons.
Can a song bring truth to light?
Can it help us win the fight?
Does it ease the world’s plight?
And set the wrongs aright?
Yes a song can save the world,
Though the truth must be unfurled,
And the listeners’ ears are twirled.
So the hurts will all be pearled.
Mickey at the Wishing Well of Souls
I found a country well, and I thought I had a quarter,
But I fished in pockets hard, and found nothing for the warter,
And since I had to warp a line to make the poem rhyme,
I figured I would just look in, because I had the time.
I looked into the warty water which sat there still and deep,
And could not see the bottom, and I began to weep.
The water was clear and dark and black,
And the only thing I saw… was Mickey looking back.
And nothing of the wishing well, its magic could I see,
For only there just staring back, the secret thing was me.
Mental Pie
I’d like to offer you a piece of my mind,
Though not a lecture, rant, or complaint,
But rather a piece of mental pie.
Its taste will be very sweet, you will find,
As I’m constantly thinking in ink and paint,
That gives you wings and allows you to fly.
The Cookie
Once I had a cookie… But every time I took a bite, It became smaller and smaller…
With each bite I had less and less cookie left.
But when it was gone, the sweet taste of it…
Lingered on… as memory.
Icarus (A Song Lyric with No Tune)
“You never believe in me,
You only hear the lie,
You never believe in me,
You never even try,
You never see the good in me,
You only fear I’ll die,
You never hear the words I say,
You never tell me why,
You never care how I plan,
Or why I touch the sky,
You’ll never lift me up,
You never let me fly,”
That’s how it always was,
Between my father and I,
Until the day I reached the sun,
And burned my hands on high,
And so it is he’ll never know,
How much his son was worth,
Because he couldn’t understand,
The day
I fell
To Earth.
I must make a confession about crippling depression,
Cause today I have the blues.
It requires a concession of time for regression,
And dark days enveloping all views.
There is no progression in a working profession,
Cause clouds leave me missing all news.
I start the procession of blue notes in session,
And all melodies tend to be blues.
Filed under Paffooney, pessimism, poem, Uncategorized
Catch a Falling Star 