Go sports! Go sports! Rah–rah–rah!
Kick the bishop in the shorts, sis–boom–bah!
***This was the original rough sketch for an illustration in our “Body-Oddies” project. I keep coming back to some roughs like this, even after I’ve already done a new, fully rendered version, because I simply like them better. The raw work just hits the mark sometimes. -John
Chili is good ’cause it holds no surprises,
on this we can all depend;
That it looks and feels the same going in
as it does coming out in the end.
***February 31st is my 114th birthday!!!…so naturally I feel compelled to show you my balls.
Mike was a two-faced liar…no, ‘liar’ was his last NAME.
He only had two faces, ’cause that was the way he came.
He also had seventeen toes, and a nine inch tail, which was flat,
and five short pricks that fit like a glove, but nobody cared about that!
Everyone hated a two-faced liar. They called it a curse and a sin,
but once he became the president, he actually fit right in.
Business was going downhill fast
for a middle-aged clown named Skipper.
Until he applied at the local church,
who gave him a job as a stripper.
Now he has work almost every night,
’till well past three or four.
The fellas are sweet and tip really well,
but his ass is constantly sore.
NOTE: WordPress has found a way to prohibit me and other poets from posting my 8 line poem in the format I’ve used here for the last six-plus years. It will only post as a paragraph. They probably removed the feature so they can monetize it…’cause poets are sooooo rich. Well, FUCK you WordPress! Fuck your WordPress algorithm too! I hope you both die in a fiery fuckin’ plane crash! I’m tired of greedy incompetent fuckwads fuckin’ up basic shit.
***Tuesday is John’s 114th happy birthday! Write him a fuckin’ Happy Birthday message!!! But whatever you do, don’t tell facebook that February 9th is NOT his real birthday. It’s actually Feb. 31st…there’s just a problem with their stupid algorithm! (It has no sense of humor), but that’s what you get when you’re ruled by robots. We’re all doomed…have a nice day. -Marsha
Tommy the Clown got sliced in half, to expose his charm and wit, but all I could see as he came apart was maggoty chunks of shit.
***A page from “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks”, the finest example of clown literature ever published in America. -Marsha
Now that he’s dead we can mess with his shit. We can dance really loud. We can holler and spit.
We can carry him ’round. We can make him look silly, dress him up nice in girly-girl frilly.
We can poke out his eyes. We can cut off his nose, twist-off and break all his fingers and toes.
Now that he’s dead we can draw on his skin, give him a Clown face – a big stupid grin.
We can hang him outside for the vultures and beetles, shave his whole head and poke it with needles.
We can stuff him or shred him or chop him in chunks, then cook him and feed him to hobos and drunks.
Now that he’s dead, he’s starting to rot. Should we bury him now…or not?
But where is the joy? Where’s all the whimsy? There’s plenty to do while the corpse is still flimsy.
And when he goes stiff and gives off a smell, we’ll set him on fire and send him to hell.
He can’t hurt us now. It’s over and done, so now that he’s dead…..let’s have FUN!!
***This poem and image comprise the title page for ‘Chapter 6: Death,’ in our third book, “Bludgeon the Clown” which you can find by following the link above to www.sallemander.com., or go right to Etsy and search EEWbooks. -Marsha
I once met a clown named Jack, who shoved a grenade up his crack. They recovered his penis halfway to Venus and both of his balls in Iraq.
***Today we celebrate our ‘279th post’…and every 279 posts we publish the most offensive dick-n-balls, exploding clown limerick we can find. This one comes to us from Venus the Clown (a major contributor to our new book “Bludgeon the Clown”). John (the artist) claims Venus lifted it from his notes and reworked it to put his name in it. He says he heard it a decade ago from an old friend, Robert Kopecky, when they worked on ‘Codename: Kids Next Door’ together. I think John just hates my good friend Venus and likes to ruin my ‘279th post’ celebration. Fuck you, John! -Marsha
*P.S. The only problem with the Venus’ limerick (besides being disgusting) is that you have to mispronounce Iraq, like an ignorant American (eye-rack), for the rhyme to work properly.
The Clowns rose up in anger one day deciding enough was enough. They poured out into the streets en masse, yelling and juggling stuff.
They wanted ‘equal rights’, they said, to be ‘taken seriously’. An end to random giggles and leers. They wanted respect, you see.
Snarling traffic with mini Clown cars, squirtling flowers and ties, their strike turned into a riot (of sorts) pelting police with pies.
They overwhelmed the barricades, storming the walls and ditches and made their way up to capital hill, leaving the cops in stitches.
But as they breached the chamber doors, their smiles turned into frowns, for the senate was already occupied by Idiots, Mimes and Clowns.
I wrote this piece (and John illustrated it) almost two decades ago. I thought, for sure, things MUST have changed for the better by now…but no. Anyway, it finally got published in our third book, “Bludgeon the Clown,” which you can find (and buy) following the www.sallemander.com to our Etsy shop (link at the top), or by going to www.etsy.com, search EEWbooks. -Marsha
The atmosphere in the ballroom went positively rancid the moment I walked in. People stopped dancing mid-step. The band struck a sour chord and shambled into silence. Drinks spilled. A waiter dropped a tray of dishes with a loud, lingering clatter. A woman fainted, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Everyone in the place turned to look at me as if I had two heads. Something was ‘off’ about these people; I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
The groom, looking quite put out, detached himself from his bride and strolled elegantly toward me, the tails of his tuxedo brushing the onlookers as they parted to let him through. He handed me a scrap of paper with the neatly written words: “There must be some mistake” and gestured to a banner over the dais which read: “Congratulations to Headless Charlie and Sue the Body!”
That’s when I realized that it wasn’t my two heads that disturbed them…it was that I was the only freak in the room who had any head at all.
How embarrassing!
***This is from our 4th book, “A Short Burst” a collection of flash science fiction. Most of what you find in this blog is a light dusting of what you’ll find in our books. Follow the links above to www.sallemander.com or go to our Etsy shop at www.etsy.com and search EEWbooks. -Marsha
