TheLakaluvaLibrary
12-12-2011, 04:29 PM
We here at the Lakaluva Library have always detested Koolaid_Man, dismissing him as a boorish lout who is a step below the baboon on the evolutionary ladder. So when Lakaluva came to us insisting we read a piece by Koolaid_Man (his lover and trainer), we were very skeptical that he, the one whose brain is more primate than man, could produce anything of literary or cultural value. I even promised Lakaluva that I would eat the elbow patch from my tweed coat if Koolaid_Man's work manages to meet the level of the gibberish you might find scrawled on the wall of a public bathroom. Suffice it to say, my expectations were very low.
Well, Lakaluva, I was wrong. Lurking beneath the fur and long limbs is the soul of a poet, and although his work is still somewhat rough, it's filled with a passion and desire that recalls Whitman.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a pot boiling water to attend to.
Ode to the Banana
On my counter top you sit
Bunched up, together, near but apart
I let in the sunlight and let it make my choice
It highlights you and my mouth turns moist
I pluck you off, the snap echoes inside my head
And instantly the poet stirs within me
Tasking me with trying to find a suitable quatrain
To describe and detail your beauty
But alas, I think doing so might be beyond my chimpanzee brain
I peel you from your skin
And there in my hand, your appendages hang slack
Your form is like a flower, blooming from my fist
As I Comprehend your beauty my eyes turn to mist
I study you, a lingering moment
Your nakedness glows
And that you're shaped like my luva's manhood
Long, curved, and firm
Serves only to amplify my yearn
My lips surround your tip and I bite down
Masticate you between my teeth
That something as perfect as you emerged from earth
Astounds my belief
Oh, Banana! Art thou an angel heaven sent?
Gifted to this mortal coil from God's divine distance
To be exalted by those prophets Chiquita and Dole
Then sacrificed to hunger and turned into feces
For me to throw
As your essence settles in my stomach to digest
I feel an infusion of potassium into my bones
Given to me by your tender and supple flesh
Not unlike that of lakaluva's breast
And although many lovers will come and go
Beautiful, sweaty men relegated to the past
Bananas I will always love and adore
Whether in my mouth
Or shoved up my ass
Well, Lakaluva, I was wrong. Lurking beneath the fur and long limbs is the soul of a poet, and although his work is still somewhat rough, it's filled with a passion and desire that recalls Whitman.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a pot boiling water to attend to.
Ode to the Banana
On my counter top you sit
Bunched up, together, near but apart
I let in the sunlight and let it make my choice
It highlights you and my mouth turns moist
I pluck you off, the snap echoes inside my head
And instantly the poet stirs within me
Tasking me with trying to find a suitable quatrain
To describe and detail your beauty
But alas, I think doing so might be beyond my chimpanzee brain
I peel you from your skin
And there in my hand, your appendages hang slack
Your form is like a flower, blooming from my fist
As I Comprehend your beauty my eyes turn to mist
I study you, a lingering moment
Your nakedness glows
And that you're shaped like my luva's manhood
Long, curved, and firm
Serves only to amplify my yearn
My lips surround your tip and I bite down
Masticate you between my teeth
That something as perfect as you emerged from earth
Astounds my belief
Oh, Banana! Art thou an angel heaven sent?
Gifted to this mortal coil from God's divine distance
To be exalted by those prophets Chiquita and Dole
Then sacrificed to hunger and turned into feces
For me to throw
As your essence settles in my stomach to digest
I feel an infusion of potassium into my bones
Given to me by your tender and supple flesh
Not unlike that of lakaluva's breast
And although many lovers will come and go
Beautiful, sweaty men relegated to the past
Bananas I will always love and adore
Whether in my mouth
Or shoved up my ass