On Wednesday, June 24, 2015 at 1:36:38 AM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> This poem grew out of some lines left over from my recent "Academically Speaking":
>
>
> O TEMPORA! O MUSES!
>
>
> What sorrow conceding there's nothing worth reading
> In poetry journals today, when men condescend to
> Eschew the true venue where Memory's maidens would play.
> O cruelest of curses! A world without verses,
> Where sows spill silk purses and swine deem swill "pearls" --
> Such puffing's endemic to stuffed Academics
> Whose verbal emetics bring pandemic hurls;
> Who spew forth excretion in lieu of expression
> Compiling transgressions of time-honored form.
> And though no one wants this, this nation of dunces
> Disdains noble flourishes, flaunting "the norm"
> In both concept and rend'ring till dross replace gold --
> The postmodern zeitgeist's a fright to behold
> When men sing of bowel movements and damn humankind.
> Won't somebody show 'em a poem's no poem
> When it but consists of some hacked apart prose;
> That end-rhyme and meter resound so much sweeter
> Than grunting, or belching, or blowing one's nose?
> My own predilection's to capture perfection
> In language as lovely as soft summer rain,
> My trochees are pleasing, my iambs are fearless,
> Proclaim my verse peerless and I'll not complain.
> For art requires artistry, music a melody,
> Poetry harmony, meter and rhyme --
> When will the heathen see Beauty in prosody?
> Woe be to poets! O Muses! O Time!

I done had a Tempora crayon in my Crayola box, IIRC.

On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 6:20:18 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> On Wednesday, June 24, 2015 at 1:36:38 AM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > This poem grew out of some lines left over from my recent "Academically Speaking":
> >
> >
> > O TEMPORA! O MUSES!
> >
> >
> > What sorrow conceding there's nothing worth reading
> > In poetry journals today, when men condescend to
> > Eschew the true venue where Memory's maidens would play.
> > O cruelest of curses! A world without verses,
> > Where sows spill silk purses and swine deem swill "pearls" --
> > Such puffing's endemic to stuffed Academics
> > Whose verbal emetics bring pandemic hurls;
> > Who spew forth excretion in lieu of expression
> > Compiling transgressions of time-honored form.
> > And though no one wants this, this nation of dunces
> > Disdains noble flourishes, flaunting "the norm"
> > In both concept and rend'ring till dross replace gold --
> > The postmodern zeitgeist's a fright to behold
> > When men sing of bowel movements and damn humankind.
> > Won't somebody show 'em a poem's no poem
> > When it but consists of some hacked apart prose;
> > That end-rhyme and meter resound so much sweeter
> > Than grunting, or belching, or blowing one's nose?
> > My own predilection's to capture perfection
> > In language as lovely as soft summer rain,
> > My trochees are pleasing, my iambs are fearless,
> > Proclaim my verse peerless and I'll not complain.
> > For art requires artistry, music a melody,
> > Poetry harmony, meter and rhyme --
> > When will the heathen see Beauty in prosody?
> > Woe be to poets! O Muses! O Time!
> I done had a Tempora crayon in my Crayola box, IIRC.
No, that was tempura from the Waffle House dumpster.

On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 2:21:15 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 6:20:18 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > On Wednesday, June 24, 2015 at 1:36:38 AM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > > This poem grew out of some lines left over from my recent "Academically Speaking":
> > >
> > >
> > > O TEMPORA! O MUSES!
> > >
> > >
> > > What sorrow conceding there's nothing worth reading
> > > In poetry journals today, when men condescend to
> > > Eschew the true venue where Memory's maidens would play.
> > > O cruelest of curses! A world without verses,
> > > Where sows spill silk purses and swine deem swill "pearls" --
> > > Such puffing's endemic to stuffed Academics
> > > Whose verbal emetics bring pandemic hurls;
> > > Who spew forth excretion in lieu of expression
> > > Compiling transgressions of time-honored form.
> > > And though no one wants this, this nation of dunces
> > > Disdains noble flourishes, flaunting "the norm"
> > > In both concept and rend'ring till dross replace gold --
> > > The postmodern zeitgeist's a fright to behold
> > > When men sing of bowel movements and damn humankind.
> > > Won't somebody show 'em a poem's no poem
> > > When it but consists of some hacked apart prose;
> > > That end-rhyme and meter resound so much sweeter
> > > Than grunting, or belching, or blowing one's nose?
> > > My own predilection's to capture perfection
> > > In language as lovely as soft summer rain,
> > > My trochees are pleasing, my iambs are fearless,
> > > Proclaim my verse peerless and I'll not complain.
> > > For art requires artistry, music a melody,
> > > Poetry harmony, meter and rhyme --
> > > When will the heathen see Beauty in prosody?
> > > Woe be to poets! O Muses! O Time!
> > I done had a Tempora crayon in my Crayola box, IIRC.
> No, that was tempura from the Waffle House dumpster.

Mmm! Waffle House...

On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 8:03:31 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 2:21:15 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 6:20:18 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > > On Wednesday, June 24, 2015 at 1:36:38 AM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > > > This poem grew out of some lines left over from my recent "Academically Speaking":
> > > >
> > > >
> > > > O TEMPORA! O MUSES!
> > > >
> > > >
> > > > What sorrow conceding there's nothing worth reading
> > > > In poetry journals today, when men condescend to
> > > > Eschew the true venue where Memory's maidens would play.
> > > > O cruelest of curses! A world without verses,
> > > > Where sows spill silk purses and swine deem swill "pearls" --
> > > > Such puffing's endemic to stuffed Academics
> > > > Whose verbal emetics bring pandemic hurls;
> > > > Who spew forth excretion in lieu of expression
> > > > Compiling transgressions of time-honored form.
> > > > And though no one wants this, this nation of dunces
> > > > Disdains noble flourishes, flaunting "the norm"
> > > > In both concept and rend'ring till dross replace gold --
> > > > The postmodern zeitgeist's a fright to behold
> > > > When men sing of bowel movements and damn humankind.
> > > > Won't somebody show 'em a poem's no poem
> > > > When it but consists of some hacked apart prose;
> > > > That end-rhyme and meter resound so much sweeter
> > > > Than grunting, or belching, or blowing one's nose?
> > > > My own predilection's to capture perfection
> > > > In language as lovely as soft summer rain,
> > > > My trochees are pleasing, my iambs are fearless,
> > > > Proclaim my verse peerless and I'll not complain.
> > > > For art requires artistry, music a melody,
> > > > Poetry harmony, meter and rhyme --
> > > > When will the heathen see Beauty in prosody?
> > > > Woe be to poets! O Muses! O Time!
> > > I done had a Tempora crayon in my Crayola box, IIRC.
> > No, that was tempura from the Waffle House dumpster.
> Mmm! Waffle House...
Waffle House has terrible food. It probably doesn't improve once it's in the dumpster.

On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 3:09:10 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 8:03:31 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 2:21:15 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 6:20:18 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > > > On Wednesday, June 24, 2015 at 1:36:38 AM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > > > > This poem grew out of some lines left over from my recent "Academically Speaking":
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > O TEMPORA! O MUSES!
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > What sorrow conceding there's nothing worth reading
> > > > > In poetry journals today, when men condescend to
> > > > > Eschew the true venue where Memory's maidens would play.
> > > > > O cruelest of curses! A world without verses,
> > > > > Where sows spill silk purses and swine deem swill "pearls" --
> > > > > Such puffing's endemic to stuffed Academics
> > > > > Whose verbal emetics bring pandemic hurls;
> > > > > Who spew forth excretion in lieu of expression
> > > > > Compiling transgressions of time-honored form.
> > > > > And though no one wants this, this nation of dunces
> > > > > Disdains noble flourishes, flaunting "the norm"
> > > > > In both concept and rend'ring till dross replace gold --
> > > > > The postmodern zeitgeist's a fright to behold
> > > > > When men sing of bowel movements and damn humankind.
> > > > > Won't somebody show 'em a poem's no poem
> > > > > When it but consists of some hacked apart prose;
> > > > > That end-rhyme and meter resound so much sweeter
> > > > > Than grunting, or belching, or blowing one's nose?
> > > > > My own predilection's to capture perfection
> > > > > In language as lovely as soft summer rain,
> > > > > My trochees are pleasing, my iambs are fearless,
> > > > > Proclaim my verse peerless and I'll not complain.
> > > > > For art requires artistry, music a melody,
> > > > > Poetry harmony, meter and rhyme --
> > > > > When will the heathen see Beauty in prosody?
> > > > > Woe be to poets! O Muses! O Time!
> > > > I done had a Tempora crayon in my Crayola box, IIRC.
> > > No, that was tempura from the Waffle House dumpster.
> > Mmm! Waffle House...
> Waffle House has terrible food. It probably doesn't improve once it's in the dumpster.

Will tells me everything tastes better when it's been dumpsterfied. So many extra bits of flavor. And the blue and green waffles are right up there with the red and green taco sauce.

On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 10:10:54 PM UTC-5, George Dunce wrote:
> On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 3:09:10 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 8:03:31 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 2:21:15 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 6:20:18 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > > > > On Wednesday, June 24, 2015 at 1:36:38 AM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > > > > > This poem grew out of some lines left over from my recent "Academically Speaking":
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > O TEMPORA! O MUSES!
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > What sorrow conceding there's nothing worth reading
> > > > > > In poetry journals today, when men condescend to
> > > > > > Eschew the true venue where Memory's maidens would play.
> > > > > > O cruelest of curses! A world without verses,
> > > > > > Where sows spill silk purses and swine deem swill "pearls" --
> > > > > > Such puffing's endemic to stuffed Academics
> > > > > > Whose verbal emetics bring pandemic hurls;
> > > > > > Who spew forth excretion in lieu of expression
> > > > > > Compiling transgressions of time-honored form.
> > > > > > And though no one wants this, this nation of dunces
> > > > > > Disdains noble flourishes, flaunting "the norm"
> > > > > > In both concept and rend'ring till dross replace gold --
> > > > > > The postmodern zeitgeist's a fright to behold
> > > > > > When men sing of bowel movements and damn humankind.
> > > > > > Won't somebody show 'em a poem's no poem
> > > > > > When it but consists of some hacked apart prose;
> > > > > > That end-rhyme and meter resound so much sweeter
> > > > > > Than grunting, or belching, or blowing one's nose?
> > > > > > My own predilection's to capture perfection
> > > > > > In language as lovely as soft summer rain,
> > > > > > My trochees are pleasing, my iambs are fearless,
> > > > > > Proclaim my verse peerless and I'll not complain.
> > > > > > For art requires artistry, music a melody,
> > > > > > Poetry harmony, meter and rhyme --
> > > > > > When will the heathen see Beauty in prosody?
> > > > > > Woe be to poets! O Muses! O Time!
> > > > > I done had a Tempora crayon in my Crayola box, IIRC.
> > > > No, that was tempura from the Waffle House dumpster.
> > > Mmm! Waffle House...
> > Waffle House has terrible food. It probably doesn't improve once it's in the dumpster.
> Will tells me everything tastes better when it's been dumpsterfied. So many extra bits of flavor. And the blue and green waffles are right up there with the red and green taco sauce.
>

That's a fact, Jack! Nothin' like rat droppings to give a half-eaten sandwich a little spice!

On Thursday, March 9, 2023 at 8:54:34 AM UTC-5, Will Donkey wrote:
> On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 10:10:54 PM UTC-5, George Dunce wrote:
> > On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 3:09:10 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > > On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 8:03:31 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > > > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 2:21:15 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 6:20:18 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > > > > > On Wednesday, June 24, 2015 at 1:36:38 AM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > > > > > > This poem grew out of some lines left over from my recent "Academically Speaking":
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > O TEMPORA! O MUSES!
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > What sorrow conceding there's nothing worth reading
> > > > > > > In poetry journals today, when men condescend to
> > > > > > > Eschew the true venue where Memory's maidens would play.
> > > > > > > O cruelest of curses! A world without verses,
> > > > > > > Where sows spill silk purses and swine deem swill "pearls" --
> > > > > > > Such puffing's endemic to stuffed Academics
> > > > > > > Whose verbal emetics bring pandemic hurls;
> > > > > > > Who spew forth excretion in lieu of expression
> > > > > > > Compiling transgressions of time-honored form.
> > > > > > > And though no one wants this, this nation of dunces
> > > > > > > Disdains noble flourishes, flaunting "the norm"
> > > > > > > In both concept and rend'ring till dross replace gold --
> > > > > > > The postmodern zeitgeist's a fright to behold
> > > > > > > When men sing of bowel movements and damn humankind.
> > > > > > > Won't somebody show 'em a poem's no poem
> > > > > > > When it but consists of some hacked apart prose;
> > > > > > > That end-rhyme and meter resound so much sweeter
> > > > > > > Than grunting, or belching, or blowing one's nose?
> > > > > > > My own predilection's to capture perfection
> > > > > > > In language as lovely as soft summer rain,
> > > > > > > My trochees are pleasing, my iambs are fearless,
> > > > > > > Proclaim my verse peerless and I'll not complain.
> > > > > > > For art requires artistry, music a melody,
> > > > > > > Poetry harmony, meter and rhyme --
> > > > > > > When will the heathen see Beauty in prosody?
> > > > > > > Woe be to poets! O Muses! O Time!
> > > > > > I done had a Tempora crayon in my Crayola box, IIRC.
> > > > > No, that was tempura from the Waffle House dumpster.
> > > > Mmm! Waffle House...
> > > Waffle House has terrible food. It probably doesn't improve once it's in the dumpster.
> > Will tells me everything tastes better when it's been dumpsterfied. So many extra bits of flavor. And the blue and green waffles are right up there with the red and green taco sauce.
> >
> That's a fact, Jack! Nothin' like rat droppings to give a half-eaten sandwich a little spice!

Ever tried fried moose flops?

On Friday, March 10, 2023 at 10:36:33 AM UTC-5, George Dunce wrote:
> On Thursday, March 9, 2023 at 8:54:34 AM UTC-5, Will Donkey wrote:
> > On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 10:10:54 PM UTC-5, George Dunce wrote:
> > > On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 3:09:10 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > On Wednesday, March 8, 2023 at 8:03:31 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > > > > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 2:21:15 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > > > On Monday, February 27, 2023 at 6:20:18 PM UTC, Will Donkey wrote:
> > > > > > > On Wednesday, June 24, 2015 at 1:36:38 AM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > > > > > > > This poem grew out of some lines left over from my recent "Academically Speaking":
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > O TEMPORA! O MUSES!
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > What sorrow conceding there's nothing worth reading
> > > > > > > > In poetry journals today, when men condescend to
> > > > > > > > Eschew the true venue where Memory's maidens would play.
> > > > > > > > O cruelest of curses! A world without verses,
> > > > > > > > Where sows spill silk purses and swine deem swill "pearls" --
> > > > > > > > Such puffing's endemic to stuffed Academics
> > > > > > > > Whose verbal emetics bring pandemic hurls;
> > > > > > > > Who spew forth excretion in lieu of expression
> > > > > > > > Compiling transgressions of time-honored form.
> > > > > > > > And though no one wants this, this nation of dunces
> > > > > > > > Disdains noble flourishes, flaunting "the norm"
> > > > > > > > In both concept and rend'ring till dross replace gold --
> > > > > > > > The postmodern zeitgeist's a fright to behold
> > > > > > > > When men sing of bowel movements and damn humankind.
> > > > > > > > Won't somebody show 'em a poem's no poem
> > > > > > > > When it but consists of some hacked apart prose;
> > > > > > > > That end-rhyme and meter resound so much sweeter
> > > > > > > > Than grunting, or belching, or blowing one's nose?
> > > > > > > > My own predilection's to capture perfection
> > > > > > > > In language as lovely as soft summer rain,
> > > > > > > > My trochees are pleasing, my iambs are fearless,
> > > > > > > > Proclaim my verse peerless and I'll not complain.
> > > > > > > > For art requires artistry, music a melody,
> > > > > > > > Poetry harmony, meter and rhyme --
> > > > > > > > When will the heathen see Beauty in prosody?
> > > > > > > > Woe be to poets! O Muses! O Time!
> > > > > > > I done had a Tempora crayon in my Crayola box, IIRC.
> > > > > > No, that was tempura from the Waffle House dumpster.
> > > > > Mmm! Waffle House...
> > > > Waffle House has terrible food. It probably doesn't improve once it's in the dumpster.
> > > Will tells me everything tastes better when it's been dumpsterfied. So many extra bits of flavor. And the blue and green waffles are right up there with the red and green taco sauce.
> > >
> > That's a fact, Jack! Nothin' like rat droppings to give a half-eaten sandwich a little spice!
> Ever tried fried moose flops?

Cow patties. Sheep dip. Zid shit...