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[Writing stuff] Jester - Crawling Love
comment 2 Comments Written by Uncle David Jester on December 9, 2008 – 12:00 am

Say No!... to cockroach doze

Say No!... to cockroach doze

Crawling Lover- by Jester

take these roaches from behind my fridge
they claim this scent of mine
reaching far among their peers
swimming through cases of wine
they taunt with their
indestructible chant
of victory and loathe
but they are consistent
they never disappoint
they show up every day

 


never shall i fear
that my morning shower
will be an insect free event
i shall never be able
to write a poem about
true lonesomeness or
self made superstardom
because my six legged friends
will be there
through every crawl
every leap
every pounce
and every roll of the dice

so leave those rotten
disease carrying fiends
let them be
i keep them safely behind my fridge
like a dream catcher lost at sea

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2 Responses to “ [Writing stuff] Jester - Crawling Love ”

  1. Muchy lovey from Manila airport!

  2. No one on the internet cares that you’re not in Australia Rob!

    By theadrianclub on Dec 11, 2008 | Reply

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About The Author: Uncle David Jester

It all started in the summer of 1984. A man and his wife went swimming. He looked at her, she gazed right back at him. Was it love? Was it lust? Was it indigestion? Those questions are irrelevant because that was the magical summer when the seed of the crusty ol' jester beast was planted. From then on, things seemed to favour the strange. Jester was discovered by royalty on horseback. They took his birth name seriously. A little more serious than it was intended. Then in a half gallop of the horses' trotter, Jester was gone. Vanished. Never to been seen again... or for a least a while. Those nasty, cretinous royals kept the confused young Jester locked away in a hepatitis laced dungeon, never to see the light. Never to see flesh besides his own!! Jester was educated though. He had ploughed though 2 years of formal education. So he manipulated a pen and notepad into his life. He wrote. He wrote about things he knew nothing about. Playing in fields, shaking hands with amputees, driving a pogo stick across state lines and food. Oh how he longed for different flavours, textures, smells, pops, crackles, explosions, melt downs and food fights. The only food they served him was left over milk that was on the edge and pig shit. it tasted bad. Worse than it sounds One day he escaped. It is all explained with style at www.courtjestercafe.com.au. Jester has kept his passion for food and writing till this very day and he brings it to you on the greatest website the world has to offer, WMSG. Besides the occasional peasant flashback, Jester is doing just fine... He hopes you enjoy his writing among other things of beauty on this site. Happy reading!

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