This comes from the Instant Slam that happened last week, We were all given the prompt, "A workout and more" and then about an hour and a bit to write an instant slam poem (I actually arrived late and had about a half hour only- but all is well as I quite like what happened). Here is my resulting piece written exactly as I wrote it longhand that night and exactly as I slammed it on stage. (I tied for second with Tristan De Plume) I just figured it needed to be typed out and stored somewhere.....
A Workout and More
by Clint "Father Goose" Wilson
I have this little chore I absolutely abhor,
But it’s good exercise, a real workout and more!
I take my mop and bucket and I stroll on outside,
And drop a little tab, sit back, and wait for the ride.
The simple little tab with its simple little dot,
Works stronger and longer than my very best pot!
I feel the magic medicine begin to take hold,
The sky turns from jet black to leprechaun gold.
It’s time to do the chore that I don’t usually mention,
I’ve got to clean up the eleventh dimension!
Lookit all this pasta sauce,
Lookit all this scum,
Lookit all this giblet mash and pesticide gum!
Lookit all these fish guts all over the place,
Lookit all this gism, you’ve got some on your face!
Lookit all this zeebowitz,
Lookit all this phlaaaaa!
Lookit all this gronozit
And kookooshmidt whaaa!
Lookit all this bonovich,
Lookit all this brrrrout!
My bucket’s filling up and my mop’s wearing out!
There’s photogenic nibfitz all over the ground,
But up in the skyway there’s none to be found.
Way up there instead
Is my doppelganger’s head,
Reminding me my crocogator needs to be fed.
So I cut off my tail and curl it up like a snail,
Then I toss it in my overflowing janitor’s pail.
He can eat the tail later,
He’s a patient crocogator.
And he always has a great big smile
‘Cause I didn’t name him my alligadile!
Then after five more minutes of mopping up grime,
(Which is 57 minutes in eleventh dimensional time)
I quit for the night although I’m feeling dyn-o-mite!
My muscles are sore from my extra-dimensional chore,
And I can’t clean up voxo and cheeble no more.
My bucket is full,
Of wet platypus wool,
And salamander guts,
And frabblewitz lubnutz!
Now these fudges called judges,
Hold my future in store,
As they put a final score to…
A workout and more!
