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mirror man
Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814


0 posted 2003-07-04 08:58 AM


The Horse of Maribor    

One Tuesday night around twelve thirty,  
while I pondered, lone and nerdy,  
over many a curious configuration appearing on my monitor,  
while I panted in my rapture,  
nearly on the safe encapture  
of some vestal virgin image appearing on my monitor,  

suddenly there came a crashing,    
as of some heavy object smashing, smashing on my apartment door.    
"'Tis some heavy object smashing,    
bashing, bashing, crashing  
on my apartment door.  Only that, and nothing more,"    
said I, returning to my monitor.    

But on returning to my chiaroscuro,    
I found, I found, to my great sorrow,    
that I'd lost that perfect avatar o' buxom beauty and lascivious lore,    
that luscious, sumptuous nymph of Maribor,  
nameless now forever more.    
Oh sob! sob! galore.    

Then with lonely fingers drumming,    
and the low, infernal humming  
of computer and keyboard filling me with fantastic goose bumps  
did failure loom, among whose dumps  
I endeavored to retrieve that luscious nymph, that scrumptious babe
of Maribor.    

Again I heard that loud crash crashing    
and the sound of something smashing,    
something smashing on my apartment floor.    
"'Tis probably that jerk, below, in a drunken stupor,"    
said I,  returning to my monitor.    

But now I heard something more.  
And with curiosity burning    
from the sound of water churning,    
with new found courage returning,    
I walked down the hall, to my door, to my loud and smashing,
splashing lavator.    

"Sir," I said, "or Miss or Madam,    
please forgive me if I didn't fathom    
the urgent nature of your call.  I was working at my monitor."    
And here I opened up the portal    
to see what loud and busy mortal,    
to see what man or beast or what all, came crashing on my privy
door.    

Then what appeared to my surprise,  
a great white horse before my eyes,  
a great white horse, and no surmise,  
came sloshing through my porcelain door.    
'Twas only this, and nothing more.  

He looked around the place somewhere    
to find a sofa or a chair  
and finding nothing, nothing there,
he sat his dripping tush upon my monitor.    

"Sir," said I, "You cannot stay here,  
nor can you eat, nor sleep, nor neigh here.    
And how you found your way, your way here    
I do not know.  We’re on the third floor!"    

So said the horse, "No need to worry.    
Nor is there any need to hurry.  
We can take all night, if you prefery.    
I trotted all the way from fabled Maribor,    
from a stable in the fabled, fabled Maribor."    

"Oh, joy!" cried I as it phased me, "you’ve truly saved me.  
Now I know the gods have thus forgaved me,    
and something else that rhymes with aved-me,  
to send a horse with such decor."    
For surely he would have those babely configurations I so longed
for.    

Then, stopping for a pause, said I to he,    
"But truly now, my eyes deceive me,    
or else my ears have thus relieved me,    
because I just can't believe me talking here to a horse within my
door."    

"Be not deceived," thus said the horse,    
"believe your eyes and ears, of course,  
that you do intelligently discourse with a horse, a horse from fabled
Maribor."  
"Well, excuse my naivity," said I,    
"but a horse is a horse, of course."  "Of course."    
"And no one can talk to a horse."  "Of course."    
"Unless I'm talking to a [gasp!] talking horse corpse!"  
"Talk to Mr. Dead," replied the Maribor horse.    
And then I cringed, but it only got worse.    

"I am the horse," thus said he,    
"that roams the world but no one sees,  
a horse most grim and ghostily, the Horse of Misused Monitors."    
"But fear me not," continued he,    
"just call me Duke or Mr. D."    
But I could only shake with misery at seeing such a ghastly, ghostly
horse.  

"Oh, woe is me," thus said I,    
"'Tis true, I see, but tell me why    
before I leave, before I die, why come for me from far away
Maribor?    
Is it something that I said,  
or is it something else instead, or is it just because that I'm not dead?  
Please tell me what you came here for."    

Thus said the horse, "The answer is    
that you called me, it was your wish  
to meet that scrumptious eastern dish, the babe from fabled Maribor.    
And as for death,    
well, get a life.  'Tis as they saith,    
you're a nerd.  Oh yeth, oh yeth," did saith the horth from Maribor.    

"Oh, I admit," said I in shame, "'Tis true.    
It's just like you said, just like said you,  
and while we're at it, let's throw in something blue.    
Oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.  Oh, boo hoo hoo."    
"Boo!"    
said the dreaded, ghastly, ghostly horse from a stable in the fabled
Maribor.    

Then on the air came something rank,    
like something more than dead, but dank,    
'twas then I noticed this horsie stank, this Horse of Misused
Monitors.    

"Pee-yoo!" said I.  "It’s you.  You stink!"    
Thus said the horse, "What did you think?    
I came by bus?  I came by drink.    
I tried, I tried to use the sink, but bowls are much bigger, of course.    
It really works out for the better  
and though 'tis true I get much wetter    
than train or plane, and yes the fetor can get quite thick,    
it's why it is that no one sees me.    
But if you wish, you wish to please me,    
use tidy bowl, or something breezy next time you clean your lavator."    

"You mean," said I, "I'm supposed to clean it?"    
And I pondered, pondered how did he mean it,    
these strange words of the Horse from a stable    
in far away fabled    
Maribor.    

"But now for what I came here for,"    
then declaimed he.  "You called, I came.    
It's too late now, you can't disclaim    
your wish to meet that eastern flame, that luscious, buxom babe of
Maribor.    
So hurry up, shut up, be quick.    
The ride may be a bit claustrophobic,  
and try not to think of anything gastronomic.    
It is your fate!"  Said I, "Oh, ick."    
Said he, "Hop aboard."    

Then in a trance, it seemed to me    
that there was I, riding he,    
to plumb the depths of scatology,    
through the bum of the world and rise with a roar    
in the stables of the fabled, fabled Maribor.    
Splash, crash, smash, and bash!  

And now it is I live in bliss    
to spend my days with such a miss.    
And while 'tis true I had to slosh through 5,000 miles of ick,    
I took a bath and was a hit,    
and nothing is as it was before in far away, fabled, fabled Maribor.    
Oh joy peerless!  Tu-witt!  Tu-witt!    

Then said the babe,    
"Mow the grass.  
Take out the trash.    
Get a job.    
Move your ass.    
And who’s this Lenore?"


     note: my novel, Cool Universe, is now up in the prose forum.  Enjoy.

[This message has been edited by mirror man (07-04-2003 09:51 AM).]

© Copyright 2003 mirror man - All Rights Reserved
Kahlil
Senior Member
since 2003-04-12
Posts 1881

1 posted 2003-07-04 10:04 AM


Well Mr. Nerdy Man,
Be careful what you wish for!  Thanks for providing this hilarious entertainment for my morning tea enjoyment!  Made me wonder if I should get away from my monitor! hahaha!

Earth Angel
Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215
Realms of Light
2 posted 2003-07-04 10:17 AM


LOL Made me look at my monitor in a whole new way!

What a wild and whacky imagination you have! --and a great sense of humor!

Love, Light & Laughter,
Earth Angel

Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049
California
3 posted 2003-07-04 03:16 PM


mirror man........I totally enjoyed this fun fun tale of wit and hmmm, more!!!
Ratleader
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Rara Avis
since 2003-01-23
Posts 7026
Visiting Earth on a Guest Pass
4 posted 2003-07-04 04:42 PM


Poetry can be fun, yep!

~~(¸¸¸¸ºº>   ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº>  ~~(¸¸ ¸¸ºº>    ~~~(¸¸ER¸¸ºº>
______________Ratleader______________

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