ltmurnau | Entries tagged with poem

Tomorrow Belongs to Steve
(tune from Cabaret)

The spring of ’11 was summery warm
The scandals and lies they ran free
So Iggy and Jack thought to try and see
If tomorrow belonged to Steve

The contemptuous motion was duly drawn up
The writ was dropped quite promptly
But outside the House grew a sense of dread
Would tomorrow belong to Steve?

Tory candidates marched out from their lairs
The Dear Leader travelled widely
The voters heard yells, “Fear Red and Orange!
Der Morgen musst zu Schteve!”

First Past The Post has once more shown us
That vote-splitting makes us all bleed
Four more years will see Canada dead
‘Cos tomorrow belongs to Steve

TOMORROW BELONGS
TOMORROW BELONGS
TOMORROW BELONGS TO STEVE!

Current Mood: anxious

My Cubicle

This is my cubicle.

There are many like it, but this one is MINE.

My cubicle is my shelter. It is my citadel.

I must master its order as I must master my life.

My cubicle without me is useless. Without my workstation, I am useless.

I must fire my e-mails true.

I must respond quickly to my enemy, who is trying to distract me.

I must confuse him before he confuses me. I will...

Before God and Gordomatic I swear this creed.

My cubicle and myself are the defenders of my Director.

We are the masters of our enemy.

We are the saviours of my paycheque.

So be it, until there is no enemy, but END-OF-DAY.

(with apologies to Major General WH Rupertus, USMC)

Current Mood: silly
Current Location: in my cubicle
Current Music: Marine Corps Hymn

GODDAMMIT WHERE'S MY REEL OF FRIGGIN BUTLER EEZ-THRU

Old beef
Stuck in my teef
I'm at a loss
'Cos I got no floss

GRAAAAAAH

Current Mood: cranky
Current Location: up
Current Music: Tuneless chaos

I regret to inform you all that ltmurnau died on Monday; this is his reanimated corpse typing this update, out of a sense of autonomic duty if nothing else....
( Read more... )

Current Mood: sick
Current Location: risen from the graaaave....
Current Music: Theme to "Soldier Soldier"

Salty meat jelly
Sticks my sternum with burning
<3 pate hurt <3

Current Mood: full
Current Location: Isles of Langerhans
Current Music: Martha & the Muffins, "Suburban Dream"

(apologies to Tom Waits)

Well with glassy eyes and a hungry heart
I gimped up the hill on Blanshard
With a big fat paycheck stuck in my bank docket
And my Red Green hat sticking out of my pocket

In a West Coast drizzle on Doc Marten heels
I rolled down Fort Street to the BloodTD Bank
And I talked wire transfers with a balding bank clerk named Gary
And sent that paycheck far, far away

I slopped at Alpine Grocery on cold chow mein
And wandered to the Vincent de Paul
And I looked at an old mitre box
And some poker chips and a brass dish and a toy lizard
And some CDs (with girls on the back)
And I wandered out and started back to work

And I said Baby, I'm so far away from home
And I miss my Baby so
I can't catch the 27
I love you so

Well I was pacing myself trying to make it all last
Squeezing all the life out of a 65 minute pass
I waited at the corner with some adolescent floor show
I got dizzy looking into that huge hole they've dug across the street
And I wondered how the same watery sun shining over this lunchtime fair
Could look down on UVic and find you there
You know I love you Baby

I'm so far away from home
I'm so far away from home
And I miss my Baby so
I can't catch the 27
I love you so

Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave
Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave
Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave
Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave, Lunch Leave
Lunch Leave

Current Mood: full
Current Music: Tom Waits, "Shore Leave"

Well, I have to admit I posted yesterday in a fit of pique. Been rather stressed lately. And why the hell am I apologizing to a cathode-ray tube?

As I tried to explain in a reply to a comment made, that even though "Dr. Seuss" wartime cartoons were a product of their own time and place, and yes, did reflect prevailing culture and mood, what annoyed me was the hypocrisy in sweeping this chapter of his career aside and 'sanitizing' him for general post-war consumption.

I love and respect history, but not the cleaned-up versions of it.

So, that being said, here is something I wrote in pastiche/tribute when I hear about his death in 1991, on a slow day in the offices of the Kudamatsu City Municipal Board of Education:

An ABC of Substance Abuse

( Read more... )

Current Mood: peevish
Current Music: Oingo Boingo, "Private Life"

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Das Tagebuch Murnaus

"The Internet is a vanity press for the demented."

Entries tagged with poem

Tomorrow Belongs to Steve

My Cubicle

FLOOOOSSS!!!

Ugh.

(no subject)

Lunch Leave

Geisel 101+1

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November 2024

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