I use Tiffany pins
and Lankton did my dolls.
My gris gris contains emeralds,
I serve only the better class of souls.
I'm as regal as
Marie was, I put my
blood in your cappucino.
Better lay a vacuum 'cross the doorway.
I keep my Jimson
in Lalique. I cut my
sister's husband's Berluti shoes.
She still lives alone with her Siamese cats.
I come expensive,
you northern fool. There is
nothing I can't expedite.
Drink my number nine potion; it's Cliquot.
Comments
chuck | February 18, 2009 - 18:06
Ewan at his most cryptic. We await interpretation from the Crackersville Group.
Ewan | February 18, 2009 - 18:09
Oh God! Shame you can't delete the poem and leave the comments isn't it?
Ewan | February 18, 2009 - 18:10
It's Skunk's contribution I'm looking forward to.
Doeslittle | February 18, 2009 - 18:10
Very clever, I like it. Is it a love poem? Or perhaps I have the wrong end of the stick entirely?
Ewan | February 18, 2009 - 18:12
Sort of, Rachel. And a voice poem. Only 5 layers though, well short of 7. It is supposed to be a little cryptic, depends if people can be arsed to work it out.
chuck | February 18, 2009 - 18:12
I got the designer voodoo no sweat....it's the northern fool that threw me.
Ewan | February 18, 2009 - 18:17
Well, that could be me or anyone North of the Mason-Dixon or the guy she wants to slip LP #9. Or all three.
Doeslittle | February 18, 2009 - 18:17
Or in my case bright enough to work it out! You've already lost me with the layers thing! Sorry, I have no technical knowledge at all as you know!! I like it as designer voodoo as chuck said, that's as far as I had got...
Ewan | February 18, 2009 - 18:19
Eliot (I think) said that all poetry should have seven layers of meaning, I reckon that's just his excuse for being incomprehensible.
Doeslittle | February 18, 2009 - 18:19
Ah I see. Jesus.
Ewan | February 18, 2009 - 18:25
Glad you remembered that full stop. You had me worried.
FTSE100 | February 18, 2009 - 19:17
And then, of course, there's the riddle of the unexpected Skunk. We know he'll arrive here on or before Friday, but we don't know exactly which day.
Well, it can't be Friday because if he hasn't turned up by last thing Thursday, we'll be expecting him, so he won't be an unexpected Skunk.
So he must come today or Thursday.
But it can't be Thursday because if he hasn't turned up by the end of today we'll be expecting him, so he won't be an unexpected Skunk.
So he must come today.
But if he turns up today, we'll be expecting him, so he won't be an unexpected Skunk.
So he can't come at all.
Of course, now we've worked that out, any day he arrives he'll be unexpected.
Was it Eliot who said that Skunk should always have seven layers of underwear? Or was it his mum?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wA1nTaSrfB4
Crackersville | February 18, 2009 - 19:23
Piece of cake. You're Boris and Dorothy is with you. You are about to abduct a northern fool (a big fan of The Temptations) and need my trailer to hide him. Bums, raccoons with blue eyes and abducted people under the trailer. Publishers, WTF agents and bananas under the boardwalk.
Ewan | February 18, 2009 - 19:24
Ah so it's not Waiting for Godot, we're Waiting for Skunk!
Crackersville | February 18, 2009 - 19:37
Yeah! And he will bring us real raccoon eggs!