|Larry Lark As "Elvis The Egg Man" - "A Quartet"
1. Yellow Egg Ochre
Born in a chicken shack,
my momma laid eggs.
walked into the world on two legs
peckin at grits thinkin’ “Shit!
is this all there is.
Whatever's missin’ is some place out there,
way down along the Mississippi,
far from this farmyard muck.
2. Moody Blue Velvet
I found a rare plumage
and my voice soared
charming birds from trees,
some are so easily pleased.
Farmer Parker recognised my charms
Made sure my feathers never flew.
Clipped my wings,
became bigger than Bing,
i swear my eggs were golden,
as all day long I'd sing.
3 Titanium Pink
My eggs were class,
more than a million shot out of my ass.
So we bought a pink ostrich feather lined shed
filled with hand made straw,
stuck it right in the middle of the road.
It was then the eggs went bad
I lost the charms I had.
Instead of coq au vin,
ate peanut butter and hamburger bits,
mixed in with my grits
4 Toilet Brown
All stuffed up like a battery hen,
grew so large couldn’t fit inside my den.
Took me ten minutes to walk into the john
and one day I never came back,
even though anointed as the chosen one.
Guess I had to leave
Gone in one heave,
and though it wasn’t right
that was the end of that.
This was a LL production which deliberately sets out
to tell the real story of an all American chicken.
The feathers have been dyed to protect the innocent
The bad eggs turned into light fluffy omelettes
and sold as laxatives to those too bunged up with shite
to know any better.
The moral of this sad tale
bad eggs scramble peanut buttered brains.
27 Feb 08
Rated 8 (7.8) by 7 users.
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way to go, mr larry "but which came first: chicken or egg?" lark.
Glory glory halleloo woo hoo ya
Larry Billy Furious Lark
In answer to your question the devil told me they both arrived at the same time.
and which went first?
and was that before or
after the mass?
Being a practising poet I have no time to attend mass but have been known to send the Pope a pair or two of swimming trunks for when he takes a holiday in holy waters. Having wrestled for many years with the conundrum of life and the universe and wot came first in the middle and last i have to conclude that i am the universe and all that i see, though not all that i know, is all that can be for me, but even as i write this i am thinking did i come before or after fractalcore and is he/she a mere shimmering illusion in the oasis of my own being
Larry Steven Hawkins lark
...i am me am i we...
long live Steven Hawking.
Everyone can come together but not over me.
Larry ju ju eyeballs Lark
let's skip mass altogether
for one reason or whatever --
over you never.
so long, mr Larry the 5th Beatle Lark
a double yolk...
If there's anything that you want, if there's anything i can doooo, just call on me and I'll send it along, with love from me to you da de da da da dee da dum
Larry mop top Lark
I hope your doubled up.
Larry big cheese Lark
very drole, monsieur troll. :)
now, indeed, can you do your impressions of philip larkin? or of, at least, the lark ascending?
Sie liebt es, yah yah yah. Thank you very much.
LOL!!! I want a pink ostrich feather-lined shed too!!! Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! I mean, buck buck buck buck buck buck ba-CUCK!!! You are TOO FUNNY, L.L.! Love, Starr
And my fondest felicitations to you to.
Love you to
Sure thing dude.
Larry beneath stars Lark
wow thats a really good poem i liked the manner in which it progressed through the various stages of elvis' life from humble beginnings and forgive me i really know very little about elvis to discovery of a voice a feeling for musical expression in adolescence coinciding with the lure of the young pretty birds is parker the name of his agent or something then on to incredible fame and decadence and finally a wretched demise too soon for many of his legion of fans i remember the summer of 77 being at my buddy's grandmothers when they had just heard the news and she and her friend crying and me and buddy sort of just grabbing a couple cookies then heading back out on our bikes really a cultural giant of all time but i suppose only time itself will determine that but its been over 30 years and still there are people like you writing poems about the guy so i guess you never know at least you didnt write about camus
also its great the way you hide your rhyming i really admire your ability there
i told the dude not to paint this with gouache. now it's just faded to gauche.
This was, as I am sure you have noticed painted in acrylic with pastel overtones. Go onto my web site Larrysuburbananapuce.com and i feel sure you will do nothing but admire my painting of a purple hound dog after eating 3 pounds of tripe stolen from Mr. Joseph's offal emporium. Good night and sleep tight.
Larry Ovaltine Lark
and, you're just pretending to be dead. read this poem and it will revive you. it's full of sp3rm.
Just one of my many aliases
Larry stiff Lark
Elvis sperm has more wiggle in the middle...
had it been about elvis, mr. lark would have rocked us out. since it's, however, about an old lamer making amplified sounds, he's gone cute on us and literary and the algonquin meets at 3 and begins at 2, before the others show up.
Of course it had because he was all shook up
Larry love me tender Lark
always love reading under the layers with your work larry :)
Beneath my work lurks the real Larry, a seething mass of fiddlesticks bedknobs and caraway seeds. You my friend are one of the few to which i give access to my inner shallows
Larry how deep is the ocean Lark
ethel merman sang it well. but, it's not "how high is this guy", dude, it's "how much do i love you?, i'll tell you no lies..."
Larry the American story teller Lark - this is an awesome diatribe to a swollen nation and your Kentucky fried allusion is da best!
typically, it's considered witty to point to the poem you're parodying, by parodying the title -- you've gone beyond that and simply borrowed the poem and put different words to it -- that's fine, because who likes old poem? but the fans have taken your poem away from you and aren't reading it as parody but as ha-ha, and now you're just living off the hog, on chicken. can you change this title and the headings now? it's no longer got anything to do with me and it's kind of embarrassing, because it's so much like i'm not here, but have to provide the music.
Larry Touched A Nerve Lark
sure could be my friend
larry multi man lark
What can you possibly mean?
larry high wire lark
a quick analysis so far:-
joey = old reactionary who doesn't really get anything anymore. Bathchair waiting time - 2 years tops.
larry = hip young groover a bit crinkly round the edges, hence poems about Elvis. Bathchair waiting time - do they do jet propelled bathchairs?
even my comments are too cryptic now eh?
Larry, you have to be the most prolific and creative writer here, taking all kinds of risks with so many different styles of poetry.
This is funny, sly and sad, all at the same time.
lariatte's big day at the hair salon. this is a working, a dressing of my "quartet" as one of those exploited children wearing make-up. it's not a very good read, except that its author has a goal, which is to make merry and prance, and that makes this a stronger read than the usual craft and hobby product. this is a slam on me personally, yes? ... am i not the chicken in this? ... and the Colonel has cooked my goose with batter. i suppose larry is the finest poet, the shakespeare of larry's, the king of appliances. i suppose i deserve this -- i'm very rude and arrogant -- and the poet of this must soon displace opal as the best poet in p.c.. my sympathies to varun.
that being said, i wonder... did the poet really mean to write like donald trump noodling between foreclosures? is that the goal, or is it a cynical move to work the crowd -- gain the poetbill vote? stroke the unknown mood? -- straights always like transvestite shows. i suspect lariat is just as surprised as anyone that this is getting so much attention. this is what people really want here -- things like "what the fuck did camus know" are obviously popular because if the "fuck" in the title. using "elvis" as the bait in "larry, take a bow" has made this a good poem.
it's so much fun expecting so much here. i'm having so much fun.
wtf are you on about joey??? clearly this poem is about elvis
check the title and how it goes into the chicken part, and see how "elvis" is an after thought. look at the relationship of this poem with the headings in "quartet". true, that it's inept, but this is an impressionist piece and works or fails on that theme. here, in poetry.prancing, this is accepted as fine writing, but it's not strong enough to be a parody, and parody isn't understood by this crowd. it's read as a poem on its own, and as that kind of poem which pleases small readers of pointed jabs and sloppy tears. my poem really was a way to transcend sloppy, and the parody would have been to use the color theme as something like, say, a tripping on "rainbow lifestyle" -- sexist, but probably funny. i'm serious about this, chuckles... i think somebody's been dicking around with my sacred revelations.
poetbill gave it a 6 for creative fun...
coincidence? i don't think so.
oh, okay joey i can see what you mean now
i just couldn't understand why larrylark would bother i guess so that's why i never made the connection
there are always reasons for this type of thing and i am familiar with what they are so i'm not sure what to think about this at all now
conspiracy. probably something to do with my passioned defense of the invasion and destruction of iraq in "chrome yellow".
the poem clearly is about Elvis the chicken farmer having breakfast...
ah... the controlled press speaks and spins.
It looks like your bath chair awaits and there's no escape. You can borrow my slippers if you wish, for a nominal fee.
This poem is a hymn to every chicken farmer who never lived
The odds are stacked against you, so take your circulation pills ans smooth in your face lotion , while placing the hair net over your curls, and pray that tomorrow will be a better day for you.
this is pretty obviously a move by "george clooney is the last hollywood star"] to discredit "hillery won't accept V.P. nomination"
coincidence?? ask moscow.
the author wears the Official Bear Skin Cap and bright red coat and stands patiently at the facade of the New Establishment while a tourist waves his arms and sticks his tongue out and does the chicken dance posing for photos.
i found this entire thing amusing and i still think it's about elvis
now i thunk about it my "mee write poemz"
pretty defines this entire experience
i am pre-
if side effects persist discontinue use and consult your physician
larrylark is funny
To all my friends over the pond and here at home in little old Engerland may i take this opportunity to thank you for perspiring over this complex piece which took 30 seconds to dream up and 3 minutes to scribble down on the back of a bus ticket whilst travelling betwix and between Accrington and Ramsbottom. I showed it to my friend Joe Jogginass who said straight away that I had pulled it off again it was then i realised that in the frenzy of creativity I had ripped off my dressing gown and was stood only in a pair of T.S. Eliots old underpants which I found on some wasteland and signed by him and which i put over the top of my head before i will even consider putting pen to paper.
Larry warm brains Lark
probably why only a certain kind of product from england is marketed in the UK.
It seems obvious to me that some people are beyond medication
Larry physic Lark
You man who speak great truth
Larry Sitting Bull Lark
ride it, cowboy.
Is there a squaw on here or someone merely squawking
you the horse?
dear mr. larko,
you are bloody insane.
bravo and i love you.
but it would never work, because i eat birds.
The hen is a magnificent bird and its eggs have had a profound effect on my poetry.
Larry old clucker Lark
i'm a chicken plucker
i'm a chicken plucker's son
and i'll be pluckin' chickens
til the pluckin' day is done
I am a pheasant plucker,
also a pleasant fucker
and I do both jobs with
a smile upon my face.
Larry big cheese Lark
just avoid being a pheasant phucker
I spend my life avoiding many things
Larry the essence lark
Don't forget folks... 'this crowd doesn't understand parody'.
Don'tcha just love a parody that parody's its own parody?
Don'tcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Their is so much to take the piss out of in this crazy world that parody piles on parody on parody.
Larry laffing gas Lark
blast from the past
all the fowl memories gassed