everybody must noodle dance
to jam (and more-Warren-sit-ins) who
sits in on all the jams may, be
jam ing G, cee, and dee,
.they must have; clon(ed) him be
cause he is sitting in;; at four diff
(same.; time) Take.
The Shakedown Not Taken
Two custies diverged on yellow mud shakedown,
And sorry I could not meet them both
But being one observer, long I stood round,
And looked at the preppie one as long as I could
To where his collar popped up toward his hood;
Then breathed in the other, patchouli in the air,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because he had well worn dread in his hair;
Though as for the poorly weighed one-eighth ounces
Had shaken them down really about the same
In a Field of the Bonnaroo
Ghostly apparitions of stoned faces in the crowd
Kind buds on a wet, muddy field
A Coffee Shop in Vermont
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Trey Anastasio, for I walked down
Main Street with a hangover self-conscious looking at Rotating Nectar’s sign
In my magic eighth hour, and shopping for kicks, I went into the Muddy Waters
coffee shop dreaming of your Type II Jams!
What Peaches and what Loving Cups!! Hippie families brewing at night! I saw mothers in the Axillas and babies born on Tube Jam Reprise!
Aisles full of Gordos! Wait, I think that’s actually Mike Gordon… Holy Holy! Its really him, alone, drinking coffee brew, camera in hand. I gotta go shake his hand. Gotta meet gone dodledangy Gordo, man. Gottta shake his hand. I’ll finish this later..
My only real hope today is that someone besides that Abe Cowboy fucker reads and comments on this stupid post…our poetry forefathers deserve it.
I’m here for you, neeko. I’m here for you. In the meantime, let’s all celebrate the treasury of haiku:
your love is like bread
rub butter on my biscuits
gravy on the way
i ain’t not no abe cowboy…
that stuff make-a me laugh…on the inside
You are a national treasure….no wait, you have my National Treasure and Blockbuster wants it back…..
Nershi just called. He wants his lyrics book back.
this is freakin hilarious….good chit neeko
can we clone you?
i laughed, i cried
it was the best of poems
it was the worst of poems
the bobby weir one was Awesome! Love it!
“Is it all that you wear, poor lost-soul Weir, but short shorts and short shorts?”
also, I think Ezra Pound is rolling over in his grave today following the “In the field at bonaroo”.
Hey Abe and robby,
Please keep Dr. Neeto around for some more iambic fun!
who’d you steal these from?
I swear… if you make any money off of this…. I’ll trap you in litigation so long…… you could sublet the courthouse.
well done Nick. you talent and wit is only surpased by just about everything else
no seriously well done
no not really
no seriously well done
Your Poems are deep
like that of a thorat
in a porno
I was moved
slightly to the left
with a crowbar
from my chair
sweet! nice ode to the crunchies in all of us.
Huddled in the corner
Furtively I read
Suddenly a warm sensation
Laughingly I peed
Thank you for such insight to your wit and charm.
What? No Shel Silverstein???????
Too intense for this little sh*t to understand 😛 Kidding. good stuff hun..good chuckles.
sorry Fish, after my final trip back to the future, i spilled a Tab on my time machine… actually, it might have been a Pepsi-Free. Either way, it was something with no sugar in it
Hysterical! I think you’ve found your calling.
As an English teacher, I would rate your finest as “In a Field of Bonnaroo.” A
i saw neeko sit and try to write,
he stared at the keyboard half the nite
he shook and trembled, then he cried
‘why am i doing this thing for glide’
motherly advice i tossed his way,
‘stay with it young neeko, you have much to say’
he wrote and he wrote and finally was done
and my heart filled with pride for my talented son.
congratulations to neeko! today is your day.
you’re off to great places! you’re off and away
love, momma neeko
p.s. I could have done without the reference to the sorority-house threesome.
Mom!! stop embarassing me in front of my new friends… geez..