Ides and The Beanstalk

A mountain farmer was poor Ides
To the market he went
To sell a magic cow he had
So he could pay the rent

Ides met a Rastafarian
Who said, “Mon what you need
Is just to go sell me your cow
For these here magic seeds.”

And so Ides came home with the seeds
Which his wife promptly threw
Into the soil mutt’ring “Why’d
I ever marry you?”

But the next day the two awoke
And up into the sky
Grew there a skunky leafy plant
Twas really really high

And every day Ides would climb up
With a cold can of suds
And bring down to his wife each night
Some potent stinky buds

One day as Ides was hanging there
He met a giant fellow
Who said he smelled an Englishman
Which harshed Ides’ righteous mellow

He feed and fied and foed and fummed
And took a mighty sniff
Which knocked poor Ides right off his feet
Right as he toked a spliff

And though I saw the sad sight not
I hear the story goes
The giant just inhaled poor Ides
He went straight up his nose.

His widow she did dedicate
Unto his memory
Her own quite groovy Ides Bergen
Weed Dispensary

And she got filthy stinkin rich
But she never forgot
Her dear departed husband see
She missed him quite a lot

But one day when the spring it sprung
A pollenated breeze
Brought her dear Ides right back to her
After a real loud sneeze








This is my second submission in the Five Day Photo Challenge, though maybe not the most timely submission. The photo above inspired the post but I feel as if I would be remiss if I didn’t also include these fine photos that proceeded that one. No, you’re welcome.




The Prequel

In a land where chocolate grows
Right off of the trees
There is a girl with honey hair
That grows down to her knees

And though I haven’t met her yet
They talk about her oft
The azure eyed girl wonder known as
The Great Warm and Soft

Who nought complains or misbehaves
Or has farts that are smelly
It’s said great things will happen if
You touch her silky belly

An evil witch looked down on her
And from her lair she cried
For she was wicked so to her
Sweet belly was denied

And so she schemed and plotted how
She’d leave her evil loft
And get her hands on the princess
Called The Great Warm and Soft

She hired flying monkeys blasted
Heavy metal music
And went down to the fairy lands
A-flying on her broomstick

And when the guards did spy her there
They went in to attack
But Princess came to rescue her
And ordered them ‘Stand back’

It may have been the Princess blessed
With her pure heart of gold
Or she felt bad because the witch
Was really really old

But either way forward she stepped
Divinity inspired
And offered to the cruel witch that
Of which she most desired

And you ask what did happen then?
The Princess’s people say
That the witch’s small cold heart
Grew 3 sizes that day

And people celebrated this
And stocks and bonds did swell
And global warming was no more
And unemployment fell

And if the two were BFFs
We never did find out
As villagers too late did warn
“Watch out for that house!!”

Happy Birthday to My Little Anjelicat!

The Princess and The Witch in happier times...just seconds before the house

The Princess and The Witch in happier times…just seconds before the house

Depravity Ever After

Cinderella and Charming once adoring,
Now their love is old and boring,
And I fear they may be looking around,
For more inventive ways of getting down.

The princess was caught in a bar,
With Captain Hook’s hook down her bra,
And again we caught the slutty vixen,
Getting freaky with Rumplestiltskin.

But what got Cinderella in to this mess,
Let’s blame not the poor princess,
It seems that she was none the wiser,
When Charming turned out a womanizer.

Into strange fetishes unknown,
Involving calluses and hammer toes,
When she found her once beloved mister,
In their bedchambers with her stepsisters.

And though Rumplestiltskin and Drizella,
Indeed make for strange bedfellas,
Years of predictable perfection,
May qualify these predilections.

And neither party could deny it,
But said,”Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!”


Dysfunctional Disney

A lovely young girl will not fail,
To get caught up in fairy tales,
But can you even imagine this?
To be the characters’ psychiatrist?
To hang with them each day of the week,
I say the prognosis is bleak.

The Little Mermaid has a poor body image,
And I’m afraid she is a hoarder,
Then over to old Snow White,
And the 7 Personality Disorders.

And just when I thought my day could get no worse,
It really is not good,
To see Eeyore depressed and Pooh binge eating,
Over in the Hundred Acre Wood.

Olaf from Frozen is delusional,
We had to coax him away from the fire,
After trying to convince poor Pinocchio,
About the dangers of being a compulsive liar.

Belle has Stockholm Syndrome,
For Sleeping Beauty it’s Kleine-Levin,
Alice in Wonderland is BPD,
And the Red Queen suffers manic depression.

Will Tinkerbell ever be happy?
For her the future looks dim,
And don’t even get me started on Peter Pan,
Who has a whole syndrome named for him.

And so we reflect on these suffering few,
And label them hero or villain,
All carefully planned yet we can’t understand,
The neuroses of our children.


The Grimmest Of Grimm

There are so many fairy tales,
In which the hero will prevail,
Because in each story the villain does give,
A loophole so that the hero will live.

An escape from death, a true love’s kiss,
A riddle to solve to save them from this,
A path provided to help them escape,
What surely would otherwise be their fate.

But If I was the villain, then without fail,
I’d see to every small detail,
And make sure each story would end in disaster,
And to hell with the happily ever after.