THE POETRY CORNER

XVI - Sixteen Charmingly Scented Candles!!!

01-14-03 Jebus Apollo.. Yet another disastrous attempt at getting these haikua up has occurred, but take heart. After four attempts, I'm finally getting this stuff up (although maybe I should hold off on filling that four in until I'm sure this will save. One sec..

THE DIRT ON FRANCIS URQUHART III:  MORE ON THE AUTHOR'S PSEUDONYM We, the humble editors, bring good tidings this holiday season: henceforth, the author of these (monthly? annual? sesquicentennial?) poetry updates will no longer be Francis Urquhart III. For new readers, you ain't missing much. For old readers, you will no doubt welcome the opportunity of a fresh poetic style to clear away FU's old muck.  He was a horrible little pig-headed Trotskyite of a man, and deserved his now-legendary fate.  Which will not be discussed here. Our brand-spankin-new guest poet calls himself N-Dawg. His real name is Norbert Finlay, but we promised not to divulge his personal information.  He hails from the sunny climes of Tobermory, and enjoys romance novels, candle-lit dinners and long walks in coniferous forests, in that order.  "Aha!" you sez.  You've probably deduced that he's a sappy fool who writes treacle-dipped verse; as such, the editors have taken the liberty of beating him to a senseless pulp, thus beating you to the punch. Ahem. On a more positive note, this column's resident Éminence Grise has a deep and abiding love for the Canuckses of Van City. And he is proud to announce that they are kicking ass and taking names. Almost unstoppable, y'all. All because they got rid of the Pat Quinn Rot years ago (Quinn himself, Rick F***ing Ley, "Beef" Jyrki Lumme). On wit da show.

Such Leaf bashing will only be tolerated as it is time for the Canuckses every-ten-yearsily time in the sun. May they defeat all who oppose them in the west before falling horribly to the Leafs. Yes, yes.... That will do nicely.

Josucki Tutor has run off to join the high-stakes world of internet gambling. As we speak, he's lost $14,000.00 at www.777.com, so we're making him pay off his debts by pledging eternal allegiance to haikua, and all that they stand for.

HAIKUA

JOSUCKI TUTOR SAY:

Lo, the landscape calls As the robin flits about The air sounds my name

Robins make serving Indentured and such, like me Seem much less a chore.

How terribly lyrical.

Josucki Tutor no longer able to sing, thanks to harsh laws of Haikuist. Perhaps Josucki will find Bartolome de las Casas.

My feet hardly touch Emotions spill unchecked, and Sound leaps from my throat

All the more reason to kiss you and shut you the hell up.

I cannot contain The feelings deep down inside Mother Earth listens

Josucki Tutor humbly requests to be gagged with a fork.

Astronaut telling Mother Earth what he wants for Christmas

What she hears is love If that ------- [sounds of a laborious beatdown]

{Editor's Note: We have now included some extra bits from FU's reign of terror, in the vain hope of padding out this column}

Josucki Tutor was hoping this schmaltz would end.

Lo, the landscape crawls As the robin slowly roasts The smoke spells my name

Josucki Tutor has crawled under the electric fence to freedom! Glorious, glorious freedom!

The Robin Frier, available in the latest issue of O Magazine

Josucki Tutor may have murdered a guard with fork... RUN!

Grip it lightly, son. It won't hurt, I promise you. Now ease out the fork…

Even the prettiest thorny spike plant has thorns

With a heavy heart I relinquish thish bottle Guard the contentsh well!!!

Ah, my good landlord Another pint of your best. Feet, don't fail me now!

Despite all protestations, feet in fact did fail

BONUS HALF-PRICE HAIKU: (I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT POETRY!)

Plastic burns. Smells bad. Evergreen tree burns. Smells good. My nose burns. No smell.

Thanks to Mikehole for his haikuage,and may page builder die a thousand deaths.

Go back home!