Wazu the Clown had trouble at home; His girlfriend kept getting fatter. The fact that she was due to give birth, just didn’t seem to matter. SHE wanted him to get married, but he wasn’t going along. He’d never marry a blow-up-doll, ’cause that would be “morally wrong.”
***We’re busy…really busy. Here is an image from our “Blue-ish Freaks” book, to pass the time. The poem didn’t make it into that book, nor will it be in the new one…..Oh well. -Marsha
*****This is the 83rd post…and every 83rd post, Marsha takes a break and lets ME post one. Hooray! Marsha is away, arguing with the editor and publisher at EEW Books, trying to keep all her crappy mistakes IN the manuscript of our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown,” now that they’ve been edited out (and fixed). It’s vanity and hubris to think her departure from proper English is her ‘artistic prerogative.’ She’ll argue and get concessions – and compliments – and come away satisfied…while the publishers will do whatever they want after she leaves, anyway. It’s a messy, but necessary process….and it works. Meanwhile, I’ve posted an illustration I did for the September ’06 issue of Analog Magazine, for a story by Edward M. Lerner. It was a fun one to do…one of my favorites (though I’m no fan of war). -John
Hans discovered that he could speak with a bear who turned up in his flat last week, as once he got past his initial dread, he understood all that he said. They hit it right off, like lickety-split, just laughing and joking and shootin’ the shit… ’till the bear got hungry and ate his head and now poor Hans is dead.
***This is another illustration/poem that didn’t make the cut for our new book, ‘Bludgeon the Clown’. It’s easy to see why the image didn’t make it (it’s not very good). It was originally commissioned for a story in Analog Magazine back in 2008…but I had hoped the publisher would find a way to keep my amazing poem in the book. Oh well, that’s out of my hands – and the whole thing is coming along splendidly. -Marsha
Briny Brown was a giant clown, roughly the size of a tiny town. We know this now ’cause he tripped and fell down… and flattened the place to the ground.
From the heiney of Briny, a clown quite tiny, emerged, disheveled and slimy. As he staggered around, he said with a frown, “Holy crap!…I’m alive!! Go’ blimey!!!”
***It’s tax day in America, the day on which none of us can evade complicity. -Marsha
Something in the smell wafting from the bathroom told me that things were going badly. The crap being shouted was definitely not appropriate for television. Negotiations had broken down and a strike was well underway. Worse…the strikers were in open revolt, flinging their sacred deposits all over the walls and ceiling. The trust between us was broken. Innocents were soiled, stained and who knew if the scars would ever heal…..but all that was secondary to the fact that…I really had to go. I REALLY had to go — BAD!
Shamefully, in typical corporate fashion, I snuck out to the back yard, found a tree and used it like a primitive monkey. Disgusting. Yes, I found a cheap scab replacement to the striking toilet — but I just couldn’t hold out any longer…ugh! I felt dirty.
I say, give the strikers whatever they demand before this gets any worse and we have a real shit storm on our hands…our shoes… our trousers…..
***Two weekends and two 3-day shows in a row, selling our beautiful clown books and hawking amazing (and tasteful) ‘Poop’ stickers…..boy oh boy, this is the life. If I knew this was going to be so good I’d have quit my old career 10 years ago. John wholeheartedly concurs. But, Now we have a clean stretch of uninterrupted time to finish “Bludgeon the Clown”, hopefully in early May so we can resume our show schedule. -Marsha
A Really Bad Poem
A really bad poem is one without rhyme. It sounds really awkward every single…recitation. (time) It’s meter and beat are uneven and base. Just rhyming won’t do it, it needs a good – bouncy rhythm and a spot-on, neeto-keen…..pace. And don’t forget poets who make up new words, who clutter the page with “scruffulous” turds. A really bad poem just might make you cry. Not like…from “feelings!” but a poke in the eye. Yeah, a really bad poem will poke out you’re eye, will stomp on your toes and might make you…..screech like a howler monkey! (cry) But a really bad poem is funny sometimes if you get past bad meter and horrible rhymes. A really bad poem might just be crap ’cause the person who wrote it’s a horrible chap. You might just not care for their poetic shit and feel like you just want to…..GAG. (spit)
***I’ve paired ‘A Really Bad Poem’ with our new “POOP.” sticker design just in time for our first Comic Con of the year. John and I will have a table (with a load of new orig. art prints and stickers) at the NJ Horror Con and Film Festival, March 31st to April 2nd, in Edison NJ. Find it online at; http://www.newjerseyhorrorcon.com/. Come find us at the show. -Marsha
Doug felt sluggish sitting through another mind numbing meeting. Boring people, like him, in boring suits, like his, sat around the conference room table giving boring briefs on their departments. Doug’s section had nothing to report, he was only there to fill his boss’ seat while he was off golfing. They droned on and on like lazy bees; “Turn to page 68 and review diagram 123g…” and “good news in marketing assessment accounts payable, see the bar graph in addendum 6…” and Doug was too hyped up on caffeine to fall asleep like Bob from Legal.
Then…..he had a funny feeling. Not a laugh out loud feeling – a strange, funny feeling…and the last thing he heard before it all went sideways was another inane comment from Alice, the CFO; “…and sales were sluggish again last week…” and POW!!
A drip formed on the tip of Doug’s nose and slid off onto his tie, which he noticed was already flowing like liquid into his lap. He watched as his fingers dissolved into sludge and his hands turn to pulp. He felt his hair and eyebrows melt, his skin go flubbery and sag and finally his whole head collapse into an eggy mess down his torso before everything sploshed down into a viscous puddle of goo around his shoes (which didn’t take part in the transformation for some reason).
Funny thing is, he doubted that anybody in the meeting even noticed what had happened. Perhaps everyone there was melting like him…but he doubted it…he could still hear Alice droning and Bob snoring.
***I think melting in meetings was the best part of working in corporate America, surpassed only by exploding like a hamster in a microwave just to see the mess all over everybody’s boring suit. Happy Spring everybody. -Marsha
Willy arrived at the party with his friend Willy and his other friend Willy. He was happy to be invited, he and his friends didn’t get many invites (they were kinda nerds) but it soon became apparent that this party would be another sausage fest. The prospects looked pretty gloomy when he saw that everybody there was a ‘Willy’. At least there was plenty of beer. After a while he noticed the place getting really hot and humid. There might as well have been flames licking up between the gratings in the floor…and all the Willies were getting some awkward, nasty looking tan lines – just like his – and they were drinking gallons of ice-cold beer to compensate for…
That’s when he realized…it was all a scam. This…was a…..bar-be-que!
***Today, in the midst of the ‘Blizzard of 2017’, all I can think of is bar-be-que and beer. This is a new one from our “Body-Oddies” project, a craptastic journey through the rancid mind of my artist, John Allemand. So glad that’s over. We have enough material to do the book but now I guess we’re just spewing out material as a compulsion. -Marsha
There once was a clown named Liam, so small it was hard to see ‘im ’till I stomped him flat with a colorful splatt. Now, I wouldn’t want to be ‘im.
***We posted this one ’cause it was an easy one as we prepare our new book for publication. ‘Bludgeon the Clown’ will (hopefully) be out by May 1st and we’re working around the clock to finish it. This image is from our ‘Creepy Clown Coloring Book’…but we posted another version back on Jan. 12th 2016. I’m not a big fan of John’s work but I really like this one…it makes me hungry for seven layer nacho dip. -Marsha
Skippy the Jester came with a grunt. Leopold came with a smile. Pat came juggling big squishy balls in a highly provocative style.
Montalban came in his polka dots. Willy came wearing a dress. Mimsy came bouncing and shaking in white but left an absolute mess.
Timothy came in a Santa suit. Bob came dressed as a cop, shoving his night stick in everyone’s face and no one could make him stop.
Bill the Mime came with Sissy the Clown. Do they come any weirder?…..Please! But when the guy with the camera came, they all came in close and said: “CHEESE!!”
***This post was originally published back in June last year…but I did a reuse because John read this poem, along with two others, at the art opening on Saturday (I was too nervous to do it). The show, ‘Art & Poetry HA HA!’ at The Rectangle Gallery was fantastic and very funny. It was a poetry reading followed by a reception for the visual art show – the kind of show that could change the mind of any poetry hater. All the art was great and we got to meet a few of the other artists. We really should do more of them. There are pictures posted up at www.therectanglestudio.com. -Marsha