I can’t play the piano, but I’d be willing to slide across a pumpkin-colored velour piano bench in some of those silk boxers that have been piling up on my doorstep for lo these many months.
A Lament in Free Verse Because I Suck at Real Poetry
by Exgineer
I play no instruments, I can not yodel
Nor dance nor sing, I must be excluded
From Platypus Sandwich
My boxers are not silk
My velour not pumpkin colored, alas
I am fabric-poor
I am allergic to Moat Rabbits
flying squirrels detest me, I beg your pardon
I must dig a moat
Some may parody '80s pop songs
with style and grace, I have not the talent
At least I made Wintermute dribble
(Nausicaa - realizing that she is platypus deficient - vows to practice so she can be a big league Rue-writer.)
Ex, you may not be musical, but honest-to-goodness, you made me laugh out loud! I think I frightened my dog, because she left the room!
You have brightened an otherwise dull Friday afternoon. If you lived closer to me, I’d take you out for a coupla Happy Hour refreshments! You wacky, fabric-poor goof, you!
Since I’ve inadvertently named the band, it goes without saying that I’ll have to join. I can’t play an instrument, but I can wear one instead of clothes - someone has to be the comic relief. 
FCM, I didn’t go to the prom either, but for a completely different reason - back in the early 1970s, us longhairs where I lived thought proms were a relic of the 1950s, and laughed our heads off at the whole idea.
Tellya what - when we’re both in the old-age home, and they have a truly senior prom, I’ll ask you. Howzat sound?
Exgineer, I must admit that you’ve made me dribble in the past (:eek: :D), I’ve just never confessed to it before. And I’ll dribble for you any day!
Mentioned by name by Exgineer in a Rue thread - I can die happy, now!
Madness. Sheer madness!
Ducks and runs
Only if you promise to wear the aforementioned powder blue tux, in polyester, of course, with wide lapels and bell bottoms, and a ruffly shirt. And you’ll have to grow big bushy sideburns and wear platform shoes.
Suddenly I’m seeing a geriatric Disco Stu! :eek:
:eek:
Ok, I just wanna know one thing. How did you get a picture of me dressed up for the senior prom? Did one of my fiendish class of 1972 classmates post my picture on the internet? Must I know go into permanent hiding from the shame of it all? Did I really just 'fess up that I looked like that?
This thread just got way to weird for me. I won’t even comment on platypus sandwiches [sub]yum![/sub] and moats full of rabbits and flying squirrrels.
Geez, I go off for two days of schmoozing and the whole world goes to heck.
Sheesh, Wintermute, you’re going to have me looking for the “embarrased” smilie if you keep this up.
It really doesn’t matter if I notice you, it’s all about Rue in the Rue-threads. If he notices you, then you’re jake. Next best is Ellen, 'cause, as has been demonstrated, she is the “Designated Alternate Mouthpiece for Rue.” If she notices you, you’re still jake.
If you get any notice from FairyChatMom, on the other hand, you instantly become “one of The Bestest With Mostest Everywhere,” because she has just that sort of cachet. You will note that she recognized me, yet again, in this very thread. I’ll get back to that in a little bit.
Before I do, I would like to reiterate that being recognized by me ain’t worth much around here. Being recognized by welby is worth even less. All you get from either one of those lame recognitions is a chance to sit with us on the bench at the side of the gym while the cool kids dance. Now pay attention, because this is where I teach you how to curry favor where it really matters.
Hey, FairyChatMom, I’m glad the “poem” amused you. Please stick around for the companion pieces A Snarky Comment In The Form Of A Limerick, Because Any Danged Fool Can Write A Limerick and A Throwaway Haiku, Because Haiku Is Really Easy Too.
They’re works in progress, but I’ll get 'em up real soon.
Writing a haiku
Can be a really hard thing
When drinking much beer
There once was a south Jawja bear
Who drank lots of beer in his lair
He wrote this here lim’rick
Which was quite a trick
Cause he was drinking and just didn’t care.
HAH! Who says you can’t be coherent when posting drunk?
Well, I’m not a certified poetry critic, but, swampbear, might I suggest that you not quit your day job? While Ex spilled out his soul in his opus, I suspect you just spilled beer on your keyboard. It just isn’t the same. Sorry. No cigar. 
A Snarky Comment In The Form Of A Limerick, Because Any Danged Fool Can Write A Limerick
By Exgineer
There once was a poster named swampbear
Who was real big and covered with hair
He was busy, and stuff
And got covered in fluff
But he’s got enough beer so he don’t care
A Throwaway Haiku, Because Haiku Is Really Easy Too
By Exgineer
Turgid, slimy moat
I can’t find the Moat Rabbits
Is that a duck? Crap.
The noive! Why, I never spilled good beer in my life! **HUMPH!
**
- swampbear, going to bed now. nite all.
exgineer, your haiku simply, yet deeply spoke to me
swampbear, I listened very carefully, but all I could make out was a little burp
I’m not much of a limerick fan, but Ex, your haiku is a masterpiece! It renders me speechless. It touches me profoundly.
It completely cracked me up!
A Related Series of Haiku (Because Evidently Nobody Likes Limericks) Which Don’t Make Sense On Their Own, Although It’s Not Like Anything I Write Ever Makes Sense
By Exgineer
No more poetry
Perhaps graphic novels are next
Except, I can’t draw
The thread has dried up
There is no point to bad verse
Bandwidth is wasted
I extend the thread
Without purpose or reason
Because I’m like that
Beer, marshmallow fluff
Praise from respected dopers
I seek attention
Hijacks unending
The handrails are gone for good
Where’s the platypus?
And that’s the end of that. I think I squeezed the very last drop out of my poetry gland. It’s one of those congenitally defective hack poetry glands, too.
This also pretty much has to kill this thread deader than a used up Assault Squirrel. I’m just going to have to console myself with the thought that Rue is going to start a new thread tomorrow.
I got’s a whole new venue for makin’ a fool of myself comin’.
Yeah, what’s this with keeping the thread going this late? You know there’s going to be a new one tomorrow (or so). You should rest up for a whole new assault, let your creative juices regenerate.
You want a preview to next week’s (technically this week since it’s Sunday) thread? OK here goes:
I did stuff less than expertly and I’m going to tell you about it.
There you go.
-Rue. (teasingly)