The Poetry of Left
Mark the time, for now it’s gone
This poem starts, one line too long
About a man whose never right
Whose always left (that’s never right)
A man who tries to joke along
But funny he is not.
So who am I to speak so free
About a man, not so funny
About a man who doesn’t write
About himself on pages white
A man who surely isn’t me
Remember who he’s not.
Remember last the verse so clear,
Not he, I am his engineer!
To make and break his every right,
Save one that’s always left intact:
Two men walk they into a bar,
The third one enters not
The first one says: Good barman here
I’d like a beer, I’d like a beer!
The barman spake in voice just right:
We’re out of grapes, there’s nothing left
The duck he sighed and walked away
Come back here I will not!
The second says, Saint Peter White,
Surely my names written right
I did my best and nothing’s left
But to enter gates so pearly cleft,
Saint Peter drew his breath to speak
But speak then he did not!
The first man stood upon his stool
And spoke in triumph, Ha you fool!
You did not know but I am he, who
Cheated with your faithful she
If only I had hid not right
Where crackers are left not!
In your fridge, the duck cried out!
The barman said, I told you lout!
We have no grapes, but as I’m right:
If you come back here in my sight
I’ll hang you nailed up by your flaps
In this you should test not!
Then the third man entered scope,
He’s not with me, Saint Peter spoke
My story is about three men,
One who rightly thought to kill,
Another fell from stories ill
The third one he was not
The third man said: I’m surely he!
No! said Peter churlishly
He was hid inside a fridge
Hidden for his cheating rites
And thrown down from the balcony
As you were surely not!
But who is he that should be here?
I surely am the one man left
I thought it was my line to speak?
I thought I might insert some cheek!
Alas perhaps I am not right
And funny I am not!
And all three then in quibbled-flight,
Disappear into the night
Not one of them will rightly laugh
For one of them is full of craft:
A man who tries to joke along
But Funny he is not!
And that’s the tale I’ve left for you,
Mark it for it’s time long gone,
About a man written in song
Who never could the punch-line get
Who jumped his cue, and all the rest
But funny he was not!
Remember too it wasn’t me,
I write the songs about this he,
I am the messenger of left
And as the author who did write
I did not any way enact
So blame me please, do not!
D. M. Spinney
...
(the inspiration)
Three men were standing in line to get into heaven one day. Apparently it had been a pretty busy day, though, and Saint Peter had to tell the first one, “Heaven’s getting pretty close to full today, and I’ve been asked to admit only people who have had particularly horrible deaths. So what’s your story?”
The first man replies: “Well, for a while I’ve suspected my wife has been cheating on me, so today I came home early to try to catch her red-handed. As I came into my 25th floor apartment, I could tell something was wrong, but all my searching around didn’t reveal where this other guy could have been hiding. Finally, I went out to the balcony, and sure enough, there was this man hanging off the railing, 25 floors above ground! By now I was really mad, so I started beating on him and kicking him, but wouldn’t you know it, he wouldn’t fall off.
So I went back into my apartment and got a hammer and started hammering on his fingers. Of course, he couldn’t stand that for long, so he let go and fell—but even after 25 stories, he fell into the bushes, stunned but okay. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I ran into the kitchen, grabbed the fridge and threw it over the edge where it landed on him, killing him instantly. But all the stress and anger got to me, and I had a heart attack and died there on the balcony.”
“That sounds like a pretty bad day to me,” said Peter, and he let the man in.
The second man comes up and Peter explains to him about heaven being full, and again asks for his story. “It’s been a very strange day. You see, I live on the 26th floor of my apartment building, and every morning I do my exercises out on my balcony. Well, this morning I must have slipped or something, because I fell over the edge. But I got lucky, and caught the railing of the balcony on the floor below me. I knew I couldn’t hang on for very long, when suddenly this man burst out onto the balcony. I thought for sure I was saved! But then he started beating on me and kicking me. I managed to hold on until he ran into the apartment and grabbed a hammer and started pounding on my hands. Finally I just let go, but again I got lucky and fell into the bushes below, stunned but okay. Just when I was thinking I was going to be all right, this refrigerator comes falling out of the sky and crushes me, killing me instantly. And, now I’m here.”
Once again, Peter had to concede that that sounded like a pretty horrible death.
The third man came to the front of the line, and again the whole process was repeated. Peter explained that heaven was full and asked for his story.
“OK, picture this,” says the third man, “I’m hiding naked inside a refrigerator....”
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A duck walks into a bar and asks the bar man "you got a grape?". The man replies "sorry but we don't sell grapes", the duck sighs and walks out.
The next day the duck returns back to the pub and asks the same question, "you got a grape?", the bar man replies "i told you yesterday that we don't sell grapes here, now get lost". So the duck turns and walks out!
The following day the duck enters the bar again, but before he can ask his question the bar man shouts at him "if you ask me for a grape again i will nail your beak to the bar, you got that?".
The duck looks up at him and says "got any nails?", "no" replies the bar man.
The duck pauses, "you got a grape?"