"Who can say?" SPECIAL POEM

[Cate]

I have one leg
and it is tied to my other one
will I fall down?
who can say?

???? where is the other one? is not with you ... is it severed?

This is a very sad poem ... I don't think you have a leg to stand on.

[Violet]

it is winter now
will summer follow?
who can say?

I have $10
and you are broke
do you want to borrow?
who can say?

I have one leg
and it is tied to my other one
will I fall down?
who can say?

my spelling has really improved
will that staye the same?
who can say?

I want to scrape out
your insides
and butter them onto your
outside
is that ok with you?
who can say? (only you can really)

in darkensses's embrace
a lightless cuddle
a wet horrible puddle
and it is full of applez
likes a moderaturz trowsers?
who can say?

I am satisfied now
I fought a battle
of freedom
and rights
have I won?
who can say?

.. I'm quoting this quilleye.. since maybe later I shall take a gander at this very special poem of yours. And yes, as Cate said, you've only got one leg to stand on.. [although I suggest there's nothing new in that where you're concerned]..

.. psssssssssst.. I'm not too sure if the moderaturz have applez in their trowsers.. but possibly.. I mean given you seem to be existing now as a sub-fish.. so.. perhaps you are the subject of their [un]due mercy.. [who can say?]

[Violet]

it is winter now
will summer follow?
who can say?

I have $10
and you are broke
do you want to borrow?
who can say?

I have one leg
and it is tied to my other one
will I fall down?
who can say?

my spelling has really improved
will that staye the same?
who can say?

I want to scrape out
your insides
and butter them onto your
outside
is that ok with you?
who can say? (only you can really)

in darkensses's embrace
a lightless cuddle
a wet horrible puddle
and it is full of applez
likes a moderaturz trowsers?
who can say?

I am satisfied now
I fought a battle
of freedom
and rights
have I won?
who can say?

Are you.. [I'm trying to find the "politically correct" term here].. mentally incapacitated?.. Is that the problem?.. [and here I always gave you credit for being sort of in a rush between johns]..

.. okay, it's not so much that this is a "special poem," but that you are a "special case."

I want to scrape out
your insides
and butter them onto your
outside
is that ok with you?
who can say? (only you can really)

.. okay, well first: what are you using to do the scraping?.. I mean, if we're talking gynecological instruments, then I'd have to decline.. however.. hmm.. since you're a woman I'm going to have to scratch the next idea that just popped into my head.. [probably not my best way with words there].. [or probably not my best "wayward" words] [is probably what I meant]

.. still.. there is something about having my insides buttered over my outsides that sounds rather naughty 'n nice. A nice breakfast treat, I should think.

I am satisfied now
I fought a battle
of freedom
and rights
have I won?
who can say?

.. but seriously, fish.. [as I put on my "doctor's" hat once again].. are you just an idiot?..

.. okay, you're something of a charming idiot, I've decided.. at least as regards this poem, and so I forgive you your unsuppressible [apparently] idiocy. I suppose, if I did deck you.. [as I suggested doing in that last quill thread]..

actually, scratch that.. [making it difficult for me to get a handle on things] [okay, I'm "scraping," I admit it]

In Sum:

[sigh]

..fish.. just what am I going to do with you?

[who can say?] [although usually the "moderaturz" have a way of "saying".. rather decidedly I'd say]

.. okay.. well.. a special thank you for your very special poem, fish. As I like to be alliterative where ever possible.. I'd say your silliness satisfies.. well, it at least satisfies me, I mean.. but then, I'm something of fish freak.. so.. not too sure that should count..

.. but again.. uh, Agane: Who Can Say?

[Cate]

.. but again.. uh, Agane: Who Can Say?

apparently not the fish ... she has again disappeared with her other leg.
You know I like having her around as it's good for my ego to be one of the better spellers down here ... perhaps she should try being a squid or some other less offensive underwater creature.

[nonnymonster]

Be nice, ladies. Clearly our little Quaileyedgadfly is playing a game whose rules we have yet to decipher. I have a few hypotheses to test:
1) She is embarking on a daunting journey to reclaim the pun as acceptable discourse. I think there's solid evidence for this, but it's probably not the whole picture.
2) If you cut out all the misspelled words and arrange them in a spiral while watching "The Wizard of Oz", it will tell you how to find the buried treasure. (What is the buried treasure? Who can say?)
3) She enjoys playing rodeo clown to Violet. Never having met a rodeo clown, I can imagine few professions more altruistic.
4) She is an ex-poet. Having one day awoken to realize the utter futility of her life as an artist, she went back to school and became a physicist. But the pull of the lousy little poets coming round trying to sound like Charlie Manson was just too great, and she could only respond by yelling swear words at people in black berets from the tiny window of the room where she slogs away on the particle accelerator all day. This worked for years, but as soon as she stopped going to those AA meetings she started lurking around poetry venues making trouble. Evidence: A. Wit and wordplay B. Bad spelling C. Mockery of things that people say to sound deep, such that the shallowness of same are emphasized.
5) Whoever leaves the room when Fish posts is Fish.

Quaileyedgadfly hard at work on particle accelerator

So what do you say, little Fishie? Can you give us a hint...awwww, look, now she's hiding under the coffee table again!

[lonndubh]

2) If you cut out all the misspelled words and arrange them in a spiral while watching "The Wizard of Oz"

while eating breakfast
Applez
Eat apples, get fat, stomp on cats.

[nonnymonster]

You bring up an interesting point there. Apparently the treasure is buried somewhere with lots of applez and trowzers. Is anyone aware of a pants factory in Washington state? If so, I'm bringing a shovel.

[Violet]

Be nice, ladies. Clearly our little Quaileyedgadfly is playing a game whose rules we have yet to decipher. I have a few hypotheses to test:
1) She is embarking on a daunting journey to reclaim the pun as acceptable discourse. I think there's solid evidence for this, but it's probably not the whole picture.
2) If you cut out all the misspelled words and arrange them in a spiral while watching "The Wizard of Oz", it will tell you how to find the buried treasure. (What is the buried treasure? Who can say?)
3) She enjoys playing rodeo clown to Violet. Never having met a rodeo clown, I can imagine few professions more altruistic.
4) She is an ex-poet. Having one day awoken to realize the utter futility of her life as an artist, she went back to school and became a physicist. But the pull of the lousy little poets coming round trying to sound like Charlie Manson was just too great, and she could only respond by yelling swear words at people in black berets from the tiny window of the room where she slogs away on the particle accelerator all day. This worked for years, but as soon as she stopped going to those AA meetings she started lurking around poetry venues making trouble. Evidence: A. Wit and wordplay B. Bad spelling C. Mockery of things that people say to sound deep, such that the shallowness of same are emphasized.
5) Whoever leaves the room when Fish posts is Fish.

Hine_mechanic-and-steam_pump.jpg

Quaileyedgadfly hard at work on particle accelerator

So what do you say, little Fishie? Can you give us a hint...awwww, look, now she's hiding under the coffee table again!

.. I read this twice, and this same [green highlighted] part [especially] made me laugh.

3) She enjoys playing rodeo clown to Violet. Never having met a rodeo clown, I can imagine few professions more altruistic.

.. okay, my older brother, who's something of a singer-songwriter, wrote a song called Rodeo Clown. Now I have to re-think the song.

[like how I segued out of that one?]

2) If you cut out all the misspelled words and arrange them in a spiral while watching "The Wizard of Oz", it will tell you how to find the buried treasure. (What is the buried treasure? Who can say?)

.. I'm pretty sure the buried treasure is in Miss Gulch's back yard. The reason she needed Toto wiped out is that she knew he would be sure to find it. The clue is in Hitchcock's Rear Window, except, for our purposes, Iron Sides is a woman [Miss Gulch], and so the body part in the garden would instead complete the applez 'n trowzers scenario, though hardly. [that was something of a pun clue] [slightly dirty, but again, hardly] [especially since.. after death, I'm prett-- actually, I have no idea what would happen if one were t

know what?.. not my problem.

You bring up an interesting point there. Apparently the treasure is buried somewhere with lots of applez and trowzers. Is anyone aware of a pants factory in Washington state? If so, I'm bringing a shovel.

.. okay, the problem with the "bringing a shovel" idea is that this job in particular requires nothing more than a hand.

[ahem]

As to its being a buried treasure, one must consider the meaning of the manufacture of pants in a state that prides itself on its apples. That there is sex written all over such puzzle

[I'm pretty sure this cliff hanger needs to be turned over to the seasoned minds at Mornington Cohen] [they're paying me to give them plugs now] [though on that thread I already used up the "HIGHER" inference as concerns, well, not-so-buried treasure, as it turns out]

[I'm now thinking that my best shot at an excuse for some or all of this post is that it's late, and I need to go to bed now]

Signed..

Ms. Violet Peabody [the Sexual Intellectual] [my favorite subtitle] [to a book I've yet to read] [though surely I'll get around to it] [surely] [or how to "lay" claim to the "Intellectual" part?]