Tag Archives: poetry

The Dirty Joke by Meta

As a child it was not uncommon for an older youth to ask if I wanted to hear a dirty joke – After my affirmative answer the response would come – “A pig fell into a mud puddle” followed by a hard laugh on their part while I thought it was stupid and that it wasn’t really even a joke.

I was just 14 years old and in my bed when my grandfather came to visit with my parents over hard drinks.  With my bedroom door open and at the top of the stairs I could clearly hear my light hearted grandfather tell the first real dirty joke I had ever heard.

It went something like this…

A young couple were out parking in their car and began fooling around.  As they became heated up a police man pulled up beside them and they were arrested.

They were put into adjoining jail cells for safe keeping and left alone while their parents were sent for.  Soon the couple were billing and cooing through the thin wall between them and they heated up again.Then the boy took out his pocket knife and carved a hole in the wall with instructions to her that he was going to stick “IT” through so she could hop on and they could have their fun.

That worked.

He told her that any time she wanted more she was to rap on the wall three times.

Meanwhile her father had arrived, picked up his daughter and the maid was sent in to clean the cell.  As she brought in her cleaning supplies – her mop fell and struck the wall three times.  As he stuck “IT” through the hole in the wall.  The maid yelled, “Eek!,  A bald headed mouse.”

That became my vision of a man’s thingy(?) until I had experiences of my own.

Meta Q.

Millennium

Days passed one into the other

as pages in a calendar

Through this year and into a new

One

ten cycles past the new

Century

and Millennium

adding to an ever increasing anxiety

People jumping within their

skins

Insides tickled by

a creature crawling

alone

The distance between I and the mirror

Like the gulf between galaxies

To speak unheard

to see unseen

in isolation

I Love You

There,

I just wanted to say it

It is not important

I work

making a study in your eyes

for a light long lost

an almost remembered condition

a connection

to a singular moment full of forever

Meta Mumbles on and on

Here are three jokes That I was told by my birth father many years ago….

Q:  If a church has no doors or windows –  How do the people get in and out?

A:  The church was holey

 

Q:  What did the Preacher say when he saw the Church burning?

A:  “Holey Smoke”

 

Q:  Little fly on the wall

Ain’t you got no clothes at all?

Ain’t you got no shimmy shirt?

Ain’t you got no pretty skirt?

Ain’t you cold?”

Outside

I have misspoken

it happens often

My meager meanings

raised some hackled brows or

hands hide snickering smiles

gleaming eyes full of facts or

lies for egos sake

I am only small surrounded by

ticklish tender fragile giants

being broken under the wheel leaves disadvantages

Sticks and stones my mother would say

she too had been damaged

It takes getting use to

that green eyed monster must be laid low

with pride gagged and silenced

leaving only eyes watching

ears listening

scrambled brain trying to understand

These narcissistic giants have only one weapon

my mother told me once

Jagged tongues firing

hot and icy lonely wounding words

that hurt worse than anything

There hope lies in the vain wash

That Darwin takes control

His imitation of magick

could allow a shell like turtle armor or

the soft inner parts be replaced with cold marble

moving me beyond pain to the quiet comfort of waiting watching