10/12/2010

The poet, alone, standing in the throne, dressed in his best clothes, the suit that still had a full leg and one matching glove with 4/5 fingers, sang a story :

"once upon a time a king there was,

and he danced all day

and fucked all night.

Beer he had in the morning,

beer he had in the afternoon,

beer he had not in the night,

for beer too much

that would have been."

Laughing the poet danced, while the tears fell down his smile. He was sad, as a poet must be, sad. The corpse of the prince lay in the table, roasted just like he liked it, the apple in his mouth, the celery in the other side. He jumped down to the ground, and took the sword of a guard. He cut a slice from the leg :

"PFU! The prince ran too much, his leg is hard!"

He cut a slice from the arm :

"PFU! The prince fought too much, his arm is hard!"

He cut a slice from the belly :

"Pfu! The prince ate too less, no meat in here!"

He cut a slice from the prices head :

"Pfu! The prince thought too much, his brain is burnt!"

He cut a sausage from the prince :

"Pfu! Hardly enough to fill the in-between-teeth."

The poet returned to his stolen throne with his stole sword and sang a stolen song, about a boy that loved a girl that loved a man that loved a woman that loved a god. The god came to earth and danced with the girl the dance of fertilization. Then the girl danced with the man and told him the belly so big she had was from his love so the man ran to the girl and accepted her love but the girl had already fallen for the boys traps, and was now dead. The boy cried because he forgot that little girls are not immortal like gods are.

And so the song ended and now the poet cried, because he was happy.

Happy the poet king was, and when he was happy he'd go out to the court and dance under the moonlight until the sun came and he went to bed.

#nonsense

#boredatwork