Poetry for the Mentally Challenged

Freakin' Ree-Ree Rhymes

This month we're featuring Boerne High School's prominent Imagists--that is to say, Klint Buck, Cap'n Ginger Snap, and Sir Cornelius Heston. Buck paved the way for all Imagists to come, the way which will be, in turn, ripped up and paved anew by some other BHS moron. Though he says he wrote this next selection, Tree Horse, in third grade, the real date is unknown.

Tree Horse
by Klinton L. Buck

Nickels and dimes and guns and grass; Shrink and grow, grink and show. Why are you crying, little baby seagull? Do you like complimenting insults?

So we move on to new pioneers of the movement. Klint's achievements, however remarkable, were also transient, and he soon moved on to more important things: playground equipment, acting in puppet shows, and the occasional tuba practice session. Others, though, took up the slack. Cap'n, inspired by the brilliant verse of Harriet Pringle and Colonel Babington White, began writing her own poems in the winter of 1999. Here now is one of her very first poems, circa 1995.

ODE TO PINKIE Amanda, Amanda, Bigger than a panda On steroids. I think you are a beast And of all the people I know I like you the least.

Her style, however primitive, developed quickly into...well, into something...

QUESTION Megan? Did you ever have Mrs. Reagan? She was a freak, wasn't she?
In the following poems, the influence of Dame Harriet and Colonel Babington White are plain, especially when the first poem, "Ode to Denise Lambert", is compared to a suspiciously similar poem by the famous poetic duo entitled "Ode to Uma Thurman.

ODE TO DENISE LAMBERT Lambert, Denise. Are you a Beast? No, you're a skank! ODE TO UMA THURMAN (Harriet Pringle and Colonel Babington White) Thurman, Uma. Are you a puma? No, you're a fox! MERRY FRIGGIN' CHRISTMAS, YOU ROTTEN LITTLE KIDS! It's common knowledge While at BMS The Big C often went through Two or three or even four Bottles a day. Jack Daniels was a pal. And that's not even mentioning the prescription drugs.
Upon entering Boerne High, some of the poems became bitter, and indeed, at times, violent.
AMEN Reverend Christian You know where you can stick your pulpit! COOOOOL MATT Cooooool Matt! Goes out bowling with the football guys! Coooool Matt! Ranked number two in the class- And pissed about it! Coooool Matt! Lives at Camp Capers! Cooooool Matt! Never be as cool as Travis (or as good at pool.) Cooooool Matt! Why don't you just go ahead and duke it out with Klint?( I hear he has a wicked cross!)
She soon, however, returned to her roots and wrote a Brooks-style poem about the creator of the movement, Klint Buck.
KOOOOL KLINT Klint- spelled with a 'k' Because we don't care about no spellin' We don't care about kilowatt digitalis We don't care about no spellin' We just try to impress people by spellin' fancy-schmancy medical words, like electrocardiograph abbrevaited EKG (see, they don't care about no spellin' either) We don't care about no spellin'
In the early months of 2000, Cap'n began experimenting with new styles. Several poems, commissioned by teachers like Nicholson and Miller, spurred new approaches to old problems of her craft. The first trilogy of poems you will find here, Nicholson required the subject be three countries of her choice in acrostic form. For the second trilogy, entitled "The Yard Trilogy", Miller asked for lyrical poems on nature.
Ireland: Too Cool for the United Kingdom; or Ireland: It's Magically Delicious! Ireland's motto-"You can never have too much peat." Okay, so that's not Really Ireland's motto. But it's certainly better than my motto- which I stole off Bob Dylan Everybody must get stoned! (I don't think Dylan was Irish, but he should have been!) Let's see...I still have 3 letters to go... And I would like to take this opportunity to say that the Potato Famine was caused by the rotten English!! Note to Nicholson: I'm not going to pass this activity, am I? Detention, right? (You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you just like having me around after school.) Iceland: Just like Ireland, only with a 'c' instead of an 'r.' And it's colder, of course. Although Iceland is not as cold as Greenland, and Greenland is not as green as Ireland...or Iceland for that matter. Icy Cold, on account of the ice. Everybody says it's icy Land of Ice All ice (except for those volcanoes) Now it's getting less icy, because of global warming, but it's still very icy Did I mention the ice? Wales: Land of the Welsh Well... Ahem... Lots of Welsh people live there. Everybody's not Welsh of course, because some are tourists (morons who got lost while visiting Cheshire.) Some people think this is where Welch's grape juice is made- but they're mainly idiots. The Yard Trilogy: poems on the beauty of suburbia Dedicated to Klinton L. Buck--there's a Tree Horse in all of us. Part I: Trees Brown and green-big and tall When your leaves fall D O W N When I hear the rustling call R O U N D When your leaves fall down I will need a rake. Part II: Grass Brilliant green-swords Of Life An army of grasses Uniform; Swaying Dancing in the morning Light. Where's the fucking lawnmower?!* *This part was edited (although CGS complained of censorship) for the Miller edition to, "Where's the freakin' lawnmower?!" Part III: Heap At seven in the smoky night, I haul compost by the waning light. A banana peel, __________________(I can't remember this part!!) An egg shell and some gingerbread men. I drag them all to your insatiable jaws, Of my blooming chrysanthemums, you are the cause. But of all the praise I hath here writ, In truth you are just a big pile of...... Compost.
As is evident by these poems, certain concessions were made by CGS in order to stay out of trouble with the teachers. But other independent poetry of the time shows her moving towards a more Buckettian (ha! Like Beckettian! You like that?? I think it's rather good!) or maybe Buckensian, like Dickensian?? Well, you get the idea. she tried again to accomplish what Buck had done many grades before (ha!) and create a masterpiece of Imagism.
Lobster Ball I give you dirty sinks-- Listen, Mister!! a feline friend of Privilege shines while blended salmon (Elguea says "sal-mun", doesn't he say, "fuh-the Nuth they went, fuh-thu Nuth uptah Philadehfya--to Philadehfyah" he say.) blended salmon masks punish me Take a spill, moon.

Unfortunately, we have seen a recent decline in the output of poetry from Cap'n. All that has come in the past few months are several parodies from musicals like Camelot, West Side Story, and just recently, Sweeney Todd. Cap'n has also made several daring moves in the field of interpretative dance, causing a stir in the Boerne High School Band community. Her debut piece was danced to Night on Bald Mountain (without strings. I know- it ought to be impossible!) The brilliant incorporation of seven different characters with an actual suspended cymbal part and minimal props (namely, two sets of drumsticks and a ladder) had the audience in tears. Indeed, the audience may have been on the floor laughing, but those were tears that flowed in the BHS auditorium that night. The latest endeavour has been the founding of what is fondly called the Marmot School of Dance. This stems from what is called the Main Street Gang Dance, or the Theme Song Dance on the street. The official name for this distinctive dance is The Marmot Dance...or...the Dance...of DEATH! There are currently only two certified masters of the dance, and it takes at least seven years of rigorous training to master the delicate art of "Marmotry" as Cap'n calls it. Currently, Cap'n is practicing new dances choreographed to more Mussorgsky- bits of Pictures at an Exhibition. She's also working on what she calls the "Sweeet Firebird Suite" and the "Ritual Fire Dance Dance."

As the 2000-2001 school year commences, a new "talent" springs forward- Pinkie Poplawsky. Pinkie wasn't always a poet, normally she's just a ho, but lately, she's been turning out some significant work. Although the main poets of the Boerne High Imagist Movement don't necessarily understand or appreciate her work (Cap'n going so far as to call her a "freakin' ree ree gander"), she remains quite popular with toddlers and dead cats.

stupendity by a.pop a window covered in blood and yet... your birthday card remains delinquish by a.pop steaming wax on my lips where's the accordion? in the sink... ... ... WHOA! holidaze by.pinkiepop christmas lights twinkle twinkle where;s my sweater i don't? know happy presents filled with styrofoam and shaving creem daammiitt buy a.pop.law..sky surfin the wave man, hang 10 dillio! dillio! dillio! fucking gander aren't i artsHetic? well??? HEY!!! I'M TALKIN TO YOU SHANNON! HEY, DON'T HANG UP! I'M COOLL..... .........

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