As those of you who have read our FAQ page will already know, we no longer collaborate with other bloggers, and haven’t done so for a long time.
(You! Yeah, you! The one with a surprised look on your face! Yes, we do have an FAQ page. Go on! Go and read it now, lazybones! Also we have many other cool pages such as About Us or Hole-in-the-wall… but now’s not the time for that.)
So, anyway, we have a proposition for you. We’d like to amend this case of affairs by offering a space for you all to collaborate on a poem together instead. Let’s explain how this would work…
1) We provide the first line of the poem.
2) You write the next line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish the first and second lines in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 2-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!
Please be assured that we won’t forget to mention the names of all the contributors. This way, everyone gets the acknowledgement they deserve.
So, what do you think, Dear Readers? Would you like to have a try? It could be fun! Yes? All right then, here’s the first line…
we kissed on a jetty high above the fishes
where warm swells loll in gentle squishes
where sundog sprawls over planks like a cat
and morn’s dew hangs tight like an acrobat
we kissed on a jetty ramshackle and treen
where birds chirp loud in kerfuffle and preen
where air tangs the nose, spicy and salted
and time’s put on hold, stately and vaulted
sometimes dreams do come true
sometimes love says to you “adieu”
we kissed on a jetty ’tween shanties bareheaded
where moorings in summer are a web of ropes threaded
where jong-jong gently knock wood together
and pair to wrest free from seabed’s tether
we kissed on a jetty scalloped and shelled
where stormwater drains acapella and meld
where the sun swings low beyond the equator
and nestles sleepily in an extinct crater
sometimes dreams do come true
sometimes love will gift a horseshoe
sometimes a blow
we kissed on a jetty ’neath stars’ cutting swathe
where moonglade outlasts nude lantern’s bathe
where anemones bloom below neptune’s throne
and crabs sleep like heirs under mossy stone
we kissed on a jetty at the mouth of time’s flow
where the days are real quick and the nights are real slow
where ardour pulses through the veins of conviction
and temptation receives cupid’s benediction
sometimes dreams do come true
sometimes love colours you blue
The Ass and the Brain went to the Family Psychologist. They were having relationship issues and wanted to see if this was something that could be resolved together.
The Brain was often quite arrogant. He’d constantly remind the Ass that, in the grand scheme of things, he was more important than she could ever hope to be. And so the Ass would say, “Come down here and say that. I’ll sit on you!”
The Family Psychologist said, “Well, the Brain, let’s unpack that, shall we? What makes you feel as though you’re more important? And what do you make of the Ass wanting to dominate you by using you as her seat?”
“I have a perfect spherical shape that’s to die for!” blustered the Brain.
The Ass snickered. “Is your ‘perfect’ sphere soft and smooth like mine?”
“It has two halves!”
“That’s not what I asked,” muttered The Ass with raised brow.
Ignoring her snarky comment, the Brain puffed himself up and said, “Having two halves affords me a higher degree of processing power. I can solve complex, mathematical equations!”
“You do realise that halves come only in twos, right? Yup, my ‘two halves’ can process things as well—usually on a porcelain throne. It’s called intuition.”
The Brain frowned mightily. It was time to cite one last piece of incontrovertible evidence to support his case. “I have deep, sexy furrows! No intellect can resist me!”
The Ass sighed. She was young and springy, with no furrows, yet all the science nerds still checked her out at the library. Was it worth the bother to mention this?
The Brain visibly deflated a little as the Ass humphed and left the room. The Family Psychologist looked at him and asked the obvious: “How does that make you feel?”
Twenty years later, The elderly Ass came to the elderly Brain. She said, “Look, I have wrinkles now! Are we finally equals?” But the Brain didn’t answer. He had dementia.
MORAL: Time puts everything in its place.
TATI: Tony, again, I’m starting our discussion with the same question. Why on earth do you persist in tagging almost everything as NSFW on your personal art blog? Is it because the tortoise wears no panties? Or it has a dirty tattoo on the left buttock?
TONY: Do tortoises even have buttocks? And how do they defecate for that matter? Does a tortoise shell have a back door?
TATI: Or are you just trying to lure readers with such a cheap trick as the NSFW tag?
TONY: Naw, I just wanna be sure that people can’t complain that I didn’t warn them. Maybe I worry about that too much.
TATI: Okay, I will be a nudnik here.
TONY: What the hell is a nudnik?
TATI: Not suitable/safe for work—or NSFW—is Internet slang or a shorthand tag used in email, videos, and on interactive discussion areas (such as forums, blogs, or community websites) to mark URLs or hyperlinks that contain nudity, intense sexuality, profanity or disturbing content, which the viewer may not wish to be seen accessing in a public or formal setting such as in a workplace or school.
TONY: That pretty much sums it up.
TATI: Does this picture fall into that explanation?
TONY: I think so. Some folks could deem it a bit inappopriate ‘cos of all the blood and hurty teeth. Not everyone likes blood and hurty teeth, y’know!
TATI: That’s a laugh, Tony! Children in kindergarten draw monsters hell wouldn’t have.
TONY: This is true. And then it’s drummed out of them. They’re told to stop drawing such nonsense—which is a shame really.
TATI: Well, I don’t know if it was a good thing that your nurse didn’t take your crayon away. You could grow up and became a decent person—there’s still time. An engineer or even a manager…
TONY: Pffft! That’s boring! I’d rather be a pig mucking around in mud! At least they’re having fun!
TATI: OK… don’t worry, I’m kidding. So, what did you have on your mind when you were drawing this? How did you come up with the idea of this picture?
TONY: I realised that I have never really drawn anything horror-related before, so I wanted to give it a try to see if it was something I could do. And my art style is quite cartoony, so this was always going to be a bit of a challenge. I don’t recall how I came up with the idea though. I knew I wanted it to not have eyes. I knew that much.
TATI: It’s strange. This picture makes me wonder how this reptile attacks. It has clean belly and feet, but spattered back and snout. Does it jump, hit a victim with its shell, and land on its feet again? And noms on the victim after this?
TONY: I think you’ve missed your calling, Tati. You should’ve been a forensic scientist all along! Such technical terms! ‘Nom’ for one…
TATI: I could be. But don’t try to dance around the question, Tony! No eyes, no nostrils… How on earth does this beast find its victims? Regarding that tortoises are pretty slow animals… I suppose they can hunt only blind-deaf-mute cripples.
TONY: I guess it’s the terrapin version of a Sigourney Weaver alien. Oh, hang on, tortoises aren’t terrapins. I should get my own terms straight! Anyway, those aliens—did you see the films? Maybe this creature is like a xenomorph and it doesn’t need eyes?
TATI: Honestly? I have another association.
TONY: Well now, isn’t that just terrific…
TATI: Shall I prove the idea that this creature is unequipped enough to be considered a monster? It just suffers from some hormonal fluxes?
TONY: Oh, sure, prove away! (This oughta be good…)
TATI: Here is your proof.
TONY: Oh, good lord… A premenstrual nightmare tortoise. Kill me, please.