Friday, September 23, 2005

Poems About Lungs

Soon, very soon, I will post poems in a much sexier tone. As soon as I find a rhyming word for 'vagina'....

Lungs. This week our household was all about the pink sacs of air that rise and fall gently, unnoticed, at least until they start fuckin' up and squeezing a little too fast, or not enough. Girl-child and I still have bronchitis-y coughs, and Boy-child is still taking asthma treatments. Friday the doctor will tell us a further course of action for him. Other than suing big chemical companies for polluting our air and causing our generation to experience more lung-related problems than ever before.

It's late, folks, and I hope these poems don't reflect my total lack of creativity. Or if they do, that I can show you the stack of doctor's office receipts I've collected and be granted immunity.

Sergei bought some cell phone rings today, songs, and I nearly came in my pants when he played the first one, "Santeria" by Sublime. (I'm still pissed at the lead singer for OD-ing, you stupid muthafucka. But I love their music.) I needs me some funky phone jams.

And now, with no further hoo-ha, I present to you:

Poems About Lungs

With All Apologies to Baudelaire (mon dieu, not en Francais):


Come to my arms, curvy and swollen thing;
Hefty in your D cups, come to my arms today,
For I would plunge my face in your cleavage as play,
And be happy in your healthy lungs, hyperventilating --

And by that I of course mean your wild, lustful lungs,
Those two perfectly pink globes that hang
And cause within my loins a glorious pang
That sends me home unsatisfied, speaking in tongues.

I long to squeeze, to rub them, I think that if I could
Make you forget you’re my patient,
And here to provide a service most ancient,
I could show you my exquisite length of wood.

Do not get me wrong; I am not oversexed,
I am merely concerned about your health,
And will examine you myself, with much stealth,
Because your heaving lungs do leave me much vexed.

My undoing, as doctor, is seeing you each year
To gently probe and swab a sample,
And feel and ample,
A breast exam is all I’m doing, really, my dear.

So I implore you, undo that front-tying gown,
And let this appointment hereby prove
That my bits and pieces you do move
As I watch your lungs rise up...and down.

With All Apologies to Toddlers and Blackbirds

Sing a song of sex-pants,
A pocket full of girth
Four and twenty coeds
Sunk him to the earth.
When the doctors found him
The man began to pant,
“I surely could have done them all...
But breathe? Oh man, I can’t!”

His wife was in the dentist’s chair,
gettin’ good and drilled.
His son was at the local pub,
gettin’ good and filled.
His daughter was a’courtin’
A tall and handsome sailor,
Wasn’t that a stupid thing
To forget to bring his inhaler?

With All Apologies to fans of Sublime, and those who practice Santeria:

My lungs practice respiration
As I breathe in and breathe out
They surely come in handy when I...scream and shout

If I could get some Nyquil, and some Benedryl Non-Drowsy,
I’d pop a can of Fresca and feel...not so blowsy.

What I really wanna know (now baby)
What I really wanna say is pass the Vicks
‘Cause it’s air that I breeeeeeeathe
My lungs will have to wait til I heal up

Damn airways feel like brick.
Momma’s gonna love Robitussin
I feel the cough, feel the cough, feel the cough
and I gotta let ‘em out
(choke, hack, wheeeeeeeze)
Well I’m back to cussin’,

What I really wanna know, (now baby)
What I really wanna say is that this blows.
Bronchitis! Make it go,
My lungs will have to.....

What I really wanna say, (now baby)
What I really wanna say is that’s just fine,
And I’ll make it,
Yes I’ll heal up,
Tell that doctor that if he knows what is good for him
He’d best go run and hide.
I’m gonna spread my germs far and wide.

And he won’t think twice to jam that stick straight down my sore throat,
Believe me when I say that I want a shot in my punk ass.

What I really wanna know, (now baby)
What I really wanna say autumn’s here
With the colds,
With the flu and allergies
My lungs will have to wait.
(yeah, yeah, yeah)

Stay outta the rain, my friends, make a hot toddy, and enjoy the autumn breezes! (Just don't stand too close to me or you'll catch 'mona'....)


At 9:11 AM, Blogger Maine said...


Now I'm all groovin in my chair at work to that Sublime song.

How long do these take you to make?

At 9:39 AM, Blogger Orange said...

For next week, here are some rhymes or near-rhymes: North Carolina, what could be finer, San Francisco Forty-Niner, coalminer, angina, China, Dinah, Funky Cold Medina, mynah, pantyliner, rhino, Brent Spiner, St. Thomas Aquinas, the macarena (can you hear "Eh, my vagina!" to the tune of "Macarena"?).

At 11:00 AM, Blogger Mona Buonanotte said...

Maine: Yeah, that song haunted me all night. The whole post took a couple hours, but that's because I started writing 6 or 7 other poems that didn't make the cut, other nursery rhymes, and John Denver, that just sucked wrinkled ass about 2/3 of the way through. The Baudelaire one took about 15 minutes. "Sex-pants" took about 5. And Blogger refused to post for about 20 minutes. Faaack.

Orange: That's it! I'm hiring you as my rhyming expert! The only rhyme I could come up with was "it's-a mine-a". There's a city in Canada called "Regina" which I think is pronounced "Rah-Gee-Nah", but which we pronounce as a rhyme to vagina, just to be smart asses.

At 2:58 PM, Blogger Orange said...

Glad to be of service.

At 5:12 PM, Blogger Lisa said...

fabulous as always! And I'm mighty proud of you for managing to get plenty o' sex in even though your body part of choice was non-sexual in nature!! yaaay!!!

At 10:44 AM, Blogger midwest_hick said... I'll be trying to think of a word that rhymes with vagina all

At 11:06 PM, Blogger Lost said...

Actually it IS pronounced Reeg - I- Na so there ya go - rhyme it with vagina LOL.

At 1:39 AM, Blogger javieth said...

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At 1:48 PM, Anonymous replica louis vuitton bags said...

I'll be trying to think of a word that rhymes with vagina all day


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